A Fistful of Credits
by Squall67584
Summary: After 2 years on the run, Rika Tymor and Randal Sarn have found another Jedi survivor of Order 66: Orena Melar. She has an interesting proposal; join forces and fight the Empire! But it won't be easy, and certainly not cheap. Part 3 of ongoing OC series
1. Chapter 1

Hello there! Well, it's been a long time, but I finally got part 3 of my ongoing series finished, and ready to post! As usual, the story is complete, and I'll be posting a chapter every week or so, so no worries on whether it'll be finished or not. Personally, I can't stand getting into a story, and then it never gets updated! :( This story is a starting point for where the series will be headed, and all due to a silly youtube video that gave me the idea. For anyone that's interested out of some sort of morbid curiosity, you can find it by doing a search for Star Wars A-Team. Anyway, enough mindless blather and onto the story!

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Chapter 1 Duty Bound

_Ascension Station, Dienzo System, Outskirts of Mid Rim_

All in all, Rika Tymor thought to herself, it had been a pretty eventful week. The fugitive Jedi Padawan and her business partner Randal Sarn had gone through a lot in the two years since Order 66 ended her way of life and made her a fugitive on the run, but the last week was nothing compared to the rest.

It had begun with an unsavory contact who claimed that he had information on the location of some fugitive Jedi survivors who wanted to have a meeting on the unspectacular mining world of Dienzo III, a useless rock on the outskirts of the Mid Rim. Randal had refused to go that far into Imperial territory, but Rika had insisted and he conceded, but griped about it the entire time. Their contact never showed, but the Force works in mysterious ways. While on Dienzo III, they met a miner who was in need of someone who could teach his people to defend themselves from a larger corporate mogul who had a gang of thugs working for him and wanted their land. They helped them, though Randal griped about this as well until he learned that the thugs were led by a particular nasty and cruel Mandalorian named Kaul.

Together, Randal and Rika fought alongside the villagers and drove the thugs away, however, in the fight, Rika had to use her lightsaber; and even though the Jedi were all but extinct for two years now, everyone realized what she was... even Kual. Rika blamed herself for what happened next, after all, Randal continuously told her not to carry the weapon anymore, even to the point of annoyance. During the night of the attack, once everyone felt that the thugs wouldn't come back and the worst was behind them, Kaul returned. But this time, instead of attacking the village, he was there only for her; or at least the million credit bounty that the Empire had posted for fugitive Jedi.

She was caught by surprise, drugged, and kidnapped. What happened after that, she wasn't clear on. All she remembered after that was waking up here on Ascension Station, a refueling and transfer station on the edge of the system. Randal had said that Kaul and his thugs wouldn't be a problem anymore, but he failed to elaborate any further.

Once the medical droid said she was okay to leave, Randal insisted on having a drink, so they went to a cantina where she was given a napkin that held the best hope for her Jedi searching quest yet. It was a hand drawn picture of a suubatar and a docking bay number. Randal had no idea what it meant, but of course the animal wasn't relevant to him. But to Rika, it meant the world. When she was a youngling, she was in the suubatar clan, so obviously a fellow clan's member was here on the station.

Now, as Rika and Randal headed to the indicated docking bay, she couldn't help but feel a mix of different emotions coursing through her, making her stomach turn violently. Randal caught her by the arm and for the twentieth time made her slow down. She was so excited to finally see another Jedi that she was nearly running to the docking bay.

She paused at the docking bay door and took in a deep breath. It had been nearly two years since the last time she was in the presence of another Jedi, and nearly forgot what it was like to be touched through the Force by another Force user. It was something that she used to find normal and mundane, but after such a long time without it, she craved for the sensation like a bird longing to soar through the air but was stuck inside a cage.

She readied herself, and then stepped through the doors. Briefly, she scanned the area, noting the massive Charger C70 that was being loaded with cargo containers. For a split second, she thought it was odd to see one of these so long after the war, but her thoughts fell onto a figure standing with their back to her, wearing a green hooded cloak with the cloak covering their head. Somewhere behind her, she heard Randal say something.

"Wow, a Charger C70. You don't see those too often in civvie hands."

As they continued to walk into the docking bay, Rika tried to see if she could remember this person by their signature in the Force. Rika stretched out with her feelings and got a sense of everything in the docking bay, _except_ for the hooded figure. She was taken aback by this; everything gave off some sort of resonance in the Force, even droids if one were to concentrate hard enough. But whoever this was, they weren't emitting even a flicker, as if they were a black spot in the Force. Rika had no idea what was being done here and felt both confused and cautious at the same time.

The mysterious stranger must have been able to sense her confusion, because they turned around from the droid that they were talking to and began to approach the duo. A pair of slender hands reached up and lowered the cloak, revealing a human female with a head of long blonde hair, gray eyes, and an old smile that Rika hadn't seen in years. The blonde ran to Rika, grabbed her arms in an embrace and shook her excitedly.

"Rika! I thought that was you in the cantina! You don't know how happy I am to see that you've survived! How did you do it? So many others didn't make it," she said solemnly with a slight frown at remembering that so many of their comrades were no longer on the living side of the Force. Rika recognized her of course. This was Orena Melar, the star pupil of the suubatar clan; always the first one with any answer, the highest scorer on any test, the first of the clan to be chosen as a Padawan, and the first Padawan to be granted the full rank of Jedi Knight. Rika didn't know why, but though most of the butterflies in her stomach had disappeared, she still seemed to feel something else that she couldn't understand, or didn't want to admit. She pushed these thoughts away and smiled back.

"I was lucky, I guess," was the best that she could come up with. "I've been searching for other Jedi ever since that day, and I was almost about to give up hope. I'm so relieved to find you alive and well, Orena." The two shared a smile, but doubt seemed to be creeping into the back of Rika's mind. Why did it feel forced? She was glad that she had found another Jedi after all this time, and Orena was the brightest student the Masters had seen for many years, or so they used to say all the time, so naturally she would have found a way to survive Order 66. So what else could it be?

Rika felt a sense of uneasiness coming from Randal. They had been working together in his transporting/smuggling business ever since the end of the Clone Wars, so she was pretty attuned to his shifts in moods and feelings. She turned to the dark haired spacer and smiled at him to ease his discomfort.

"Orena, I'd like you to meet Randal Sarn. If it wasn't for him, I'd likely be dead or captured by the Empire by now." Rika said it light heartedly, but she meant every word of it. He had saved her several times now from a certain end at the hands of the Empire, but she had saved his backside just as many times as well.

"It's _Captain_ Randal Sarn. I keep having to remind her of that," Randal said as he offered his hand to Orena. She took it and shook back firmly.

"Well, Captain Randal Sarn, I'm Orena Melar, Jedi Knight of the former Republic." Orena's introduction caught Rika off guard. For the past two years, Rika hadn't mentioned that she was a Jedi to anyone, and had kept her lightsaber in her cabin aboard the _Destrier_, Randal's YT-2400 freighter. It was in that moment that she realized that Orena looked odd not wearing the old Jedi robes that she had always seen her in. Instead of those, she now wore a pale green shirt with a conforming black vest over it. Draped around her shoulders, and clasped around her neck was the dark green hooded cloak. She was also wearing a pair of dark blue pants with black boots, and a matching gun belt with a blaster situated on her left in a cross-draw rig. As Rika looked her over, her eyes stuck on the lightsaber that Orena wore out in plain sight on her right leg. She wore it openly, knowing full well that the weapon pegged her as a fugitive?

"So the two of you know each other then, right?" Randal asked, drawing Rika out of her thoughts and bringing her back into the moment.

"Yes, we were in the same youngling clan as children," Orena said before she turned back to Rika and smiled. "I still can't believe that we ran into each other like this." Rika smiled and lightly shook her head.

"Nothing happens by accident, or at least that was what the master always told us." Orena smiled and laughed at their inside joke, and Rika joined in, finding the common ground that she had so longingly missed comforting. From behind Orena, the protocol droid that she was speaking to earlier walked up and interrupted their reunion.

"Sir! Tower control says that the Imperial cruiser is leaving orbit of Dienzo III and is heading to this station," the droid said in a stiff military sounding voice. The cruiser! Rika had forgotten all about it. Earlier when they were in the cantina, the waitress had said that everyone seemed on edge because an Imperial cruiser was in the system, but was headed towards Dienzo III and not the station. But now that it was headed here, that changed everything.

"I'd like to be able to catch up and see what you're up to, but I make it a habit of not sticking around when Imperials show up," Orena said with a regretful expression on her face. "If you'd like, we can set a rendezvous point up and meet there. Then we can talk more leisurely," Orena suggested with a smile that showed her enthusiasm. Rika nodded agreement, and Orena took out a notepad and pulled out a sheet of flimsi, quickly wrote down a set of coordinates and handed them to Rika. Rika looked over them quickly, and then looked back up at Orena and nodded.

"We'll meet you there." They both didn't say a farewell, but instead nodded and turned away from each other. As Orena headed back towards her ship, Rika started towards the exit.

Randal caught up with her and leaned over her shoulder to take a look at the flimsi. "I guess we're headed there, then?" She rolled her eyes and then looked up and over at Randal and smiled.

"Yes, if you don't mind." Randal shrugged nonchalantly and put his hands in his pants pockets.

"No, I don't mind. Haven't got anything else to do." Rika shook her head as she laughed to herself at her partner's casual nature. He knew full well that this was what she had been searching for for the past two years. But instead of treating it like a momentous occasion, he acted like it was something as casual as any other day in the week. On one hand, she found this behavior to be annoying and sometimes frustrating, but on the other, she enjoyed his idiosyncrasies compared to the stoic nature she had always seemed to encounter in other Jedi.

They continued to make their way back towards the docking bay where the _Destrier_ was docked, and while Rika was continuing to look at the flimsi that Orena had given her and not pay attention to what was going on around her, she caught the slight level of confusion and uneasiness in Randal. She looked up from the flimsi and noticed that everyone seemed to be moving more quickly than normal, as if they had somewhere else to be. Naturally, with an Imperial cruiser headed this way, it made perfect sense.

As they passed the cantina, they saw the Bothan bartender sliding the security grating down and locking it in place.

"You don't think the Imps are going to want a drink?" Randal said jokingly. The Bothan turned around quickly and gave Randal a stern look.

"Those bastards can go burn in the core after what they just did." Rika saw Randal's usual smirk disappear and his shoulders tensed up. She too felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing up in alertness.

"What do you mean?" Randal asked seriously.

"You haven't heard?" the Bothan said, his fury at the Imperials only rising further as he continued. "Those stormtroopers went down to some small mining village, demanding that they give up a fugitive or something. When they refused, they opened fire. Killed every last one of them. Women and children, from what the report said." Rika opened her eyes wide as the breath was knocked out of her lungs. No, it simply couldn't be the same one, could it?

"What was the name of the village?" Rika found herself asking.

"Oh, it had some funny name. New Beginning, or something like that. Poor bastards, I guess it wasn't after all." Randal seemed to drift away and the bartender turned and left. Rika had to blink a few times and shook her head as the enormity of what had happened sunk in. She was numb to the Force, but she didn't need it to sense Randal's crumbling self control. Rika reached out and touched his arm, and suddenly got a rush of guilt and pain coming from him through the Force.

"I can't believe it," he said softly, barely even audible as he seemed to slump over. "They killed everyone there because of us; because of what we did. Giles, Otzz, even Cal and Kayla." Rika shook her head to get herself back in the moment and took Randal by the arm fully.

"Come on, we've got to get off of this station before they get here. Don't blame yourself. We didn't kill them, the Empire did." She hoped that Randal was convinced of what she said, because she didn't fully believe it herself.

Randal lightly nodded, as if he still wasn't fully there, and started to walk again. Rika kept close to him, willing him to continue on, and hoping that he was doing the same for her. The further they went, the more determined his steps became, until he was nearly marching with grave determination. Rika tried to focus on him through the Force, but her concentration was fractured by her own emotional distress. She would have to calm herself and meditate to re-center herself, but that would have to happen later.

As they entered the docking bay that housed the _Destrier_, R3-G5 or Geefive as they called him, Randal and Rika's third partner in their business, rolled up and started whistling and beeping at an alarming speed. Randal could fully understand the droid, but Rika could only catch every other word. Right now, he was blaring the alarm about the incoming Imperial cruiser, and what it had done while at Dienzo III. Randal merely nodded, and continued into the ship. Geefive twittered a slightly offensive remark to Randal's briskness, but Rika patted him on his durasteel R2 series dome and walked besides the droid back into the _Destrier_.

"Don't mind him, Geefive. We both still can't really believe that it's happened." Geefive drew out a long somber tone as he rolled up the loading ramp. Rika closed the ramp once she was in and went to the cockpit, where Randal was silently going over the take-off procedures. She sat in her usual spot, the copilot's seat, and didn't say anything while he continued to go over the checks in silence.

Without saying a word, he ignited the engines and engaged the repulsorlifts. The _Destrier_ lifted off, and with a quick blast, raced out of the magnetic field and headed out into deep space. Randal looked over at Rika and held his hand out for the flimsi. Rika silently handed it to him, and after he put the coordinates into the navicomputer, he gave it back. Once the light turned green, he pulled the lever back, and the _Destrier_ entered hyperspace.

Randal sat in the pilot's chair for a few more minutes, making sure everything was running properly and that they were on course, then got up from his chair and exited the cockpit. Rika opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words to express her thoughts. Instead, she leaned over to see the navicomputer. It said that they had an hour before they reached the rendezvous point, so she sighed and stood from her chair and exited the cockpit. She knew that she had to say something to Randal, not only to comfort him, but to also reassure herself that it wasn't her fault either. She first checked the main cabin, but he wasn't there. The door to his private cabin was open, but he wasn't in there either. She doubted that he would be in her cabin, so that only left the refresher, the engine room, or one of the cargo cabins.

The ship was circular, like all ships in the YT series, so she started walking around. First, she entered the starboard cargo bay, but it was empty. The engine room was next, but save from the constant thrumming of the hyperdrive, it was vacant. The smaller of the two cargo bays was next, in the aft port side. It too was empty. Rika was now back in the main cabin next to the entry ramp, and was completely confused as to where he could have gone. The 'fresher door was open and the light was off, so he wasn't in there either. She was about to go back to the cockpit to see if he had doubled back somehow, but she heard a creaking sound coming from the dorsal turret gun well.

She leaned into the ladder access tunnel and looked up. Sitting in the turret chair in the small pocket of gravity that always gave her vertigo as she passed through the field was Randal. He looked back at her for a moment, and then turned back to the rapidly passing crystalline tunnel of hyperspace and leaned his head back against the headrest. She was about to speak, but Randal broke the silence before she could.

"We should have been there. We could have saved them, turned ourselves in or something." Rika sighed as she shook her head and leaned against the bulkhead.

"That wouldn't have done any good. You've heard the same stories as I have about the Empire's tactics. After we would have surrendered, they would still have killed them all just for harboring us."

"Well then we shouldn't have even gotten involved in the first place!" Randal yelled as he threw his hands into the air. Rika lightly shook her head and continued to talk calmly.

"Then Dalledo would have sent Kual in with his thugs and they would have been tortured to death." She could hear Randal sighing angrily, though through the Force she could tell that he was also helplessly frustrated. He didn't know whether to blame himself or the Empire.

"Randal, don't keep dwelling on "what ifs". They'll only drive you crazy in the long run. Instead of blaming yourself, remember them as they were in life and continue to live your own as they would have wanted you to."

"Yeah. That's easy for you Jedi to say." Rika felt hurt by what he said, but knew that he didn't really mean it. Distressed emotional states and random outbursts were the type of thing that the masters used to always say happened to individuals, especially during the Clone Wars when death was so frequently around them. She was told that so many times, that she believed it was true. But honestly, she wasn't sure about that anymore. She pushed away from the bulkhead and went to her cabin, where she sat on her bed and held her lightsaber in her hands. It was this single thing, this weapon of a now extinct order, that had sealed the fate of everyone in that village. How could a simple thing like this bring such heavy consequences to those around it?

* * *

Randal regretted saying it the moment it left his mouth. It was a hurtful thing to say, and he really didn't mean it, nor was he sure why he even did. But he did, and the damage was done. He let out a long sigh through his nose as he looked out at the rapidly passing blue swirls. He used to do this sort of thing years ago, when he was in the Judicial Starfighter Corps when he needed a moment to escape from everything. How long had it been? Seven years? Eight? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

He broke himself away from his drifting reverie and cursed himself under his breath before he started to climb out of the turret chair. Rika was right; neither one of them was to blame for any of this. The only one who was solely responsible was the Empire.

Randal climbed off of the ladder and looked around the main cabin, but knew that Rika would be in her cabin. He lightly knocked on the door before he stuck his head inside. She was sitting cross-legged on her bunk, with her lightsaber in her lap as she meditated. She opened her eyes and looked at him with a slight smile.

"Rika, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it, really." Rika watched Randal for a moment and then closed her eyes again.

"It's okay; I know you didn't mean anything by it." Randal nodded his head and looked around her cabin for a moment. She could tell that he was still there, so she opened her eyes and looked at him again. Randal could only look her back in her eyes for a moment before he had to look away. Whether it was out of embarrassment or something else, he didn't know.

"So tell me about Orena. How well do you know her?" Rika shrugged her shoulders and took her legs off of her bunk and sat normally.

"We were in the same clan for nearly ten years. Everyone was close, but outside of the classes I didn't spend much time with her. She was always spending her time in the archives, reading anything and everything that she could get her hands on. She has an eidetic memory; able to recall anything she's ever seen or heard in her entire life."

"So the two of you weren't that close then?" Rika shrugged and leaned back on her bunk.

"It's not that we weren't close, or even that good of friends; everyone in a clan knows each other and calls each other friends. She was the star pupil of the clan. Always having every answer and able to perform any task on her first try. Me, well, it always took me a few tries. She was the first of the clan chosen by a Master to be their Padawan. I was one of the last. We really didn't hang out much because, well, I guess I felt that I would only slow her down." Randal nodded and crossed his arms as he leaned on the doorway.

"Sounds like me and my older brother. He was the perfect son, and everything I did paled in comparison. I guess that's why I'm the rogue that I am; the complete opposite of him. It's funny how things turn out like that sometimes." Rika nodded and looked down at the deck. Had she always been jealous of Orena? She never thought she had been, but looking back on it, she couldn't see how she didn't see it before. It was a very un-Jedi like thing to experience, but it was still basic nature to have those feelings. If her Master were still alive, he would tell her to calm herself and let the Force flow through her. But he was long gone now, and she had to make it in this galaxy on her own now.

Randal heard Geefive whistle from the cockpit, and he pushed himself off of the bulkhead and motioned for Rika to follow him.

"Come on, we're about to reach the rendezvous point."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Plans for the Future

_Rendezvous Point, Location Unknown, Outer Rim_

Randal pushed the hyperdrive lever forward and brought the _Destrier_ out of hyperspace. There was nothing around them except for open space, the nearest star being a parsec away. It was a dreary and oppressively lonely spot to be in, and reminded Randal of the dangers of hyperspace travel without a back up hyperdrive. If a ship were to get stranded this far away from a hospitable system, they were as good as dead. No long range communications worked this far out because the nearest communications hub was too far away. Some spacers called these open desolate areas of space No Man's Lands. The name fit.

Visual light was nearly non-existent this far out, so Randal engaged the running lights, if merely for his own comfort. Rika turned the short range scanners on and they located Orena's ship, the old Republic _Consular-_Class C70 Charger retrofit that they had seen in the hangar bay. Their sensors must have picked up the _Destrier_, because they turned their running lights on as well. Randal guided the _Destrier_ to a position alongside and lined up the port side docking ring.

At this point, the two ship's computers started to communicate, and when they were properly aligned, the C70 extended its docking tube, a flimsy corridor made out of plastoid and durasteel. The tube connected with the outer hull of the _Destrier_, and began to pressurize. Randal shut the engines down and got out of his seat.

"I guess you'll have to stay here, unless you want to go through the tube?" Randal commented jokingly to Geefive. The droid turned back to his interface and gave an off handed remark that he would rather scrub down latrines for the rest of his serviceable life than get into something as frail and dangerous as a docking tube. Randal patted Geefive on the dome and led the way to the airlock door, Rika close behind and still anxious.

Randal made sure that the docking tube's pressure was now equalized, and then undid the manual control to open the airlock. The airlock disengaged with a hydraulic hiss, and as it split down the middle as it opened, the air from the tube wafted in, smelling of stale hydraulic grease. Randal looked into the tube and then stepped back and made an overly done gesture with his hand to allow Rika to go first. Rika let out a sigh and then grabbed the two handles before she thrusted herself into the tube.

"Always the gentleman," she said mockingly before she entered the docking tube. Randal shrugged and then followed her through. The plastoid tube didn't have an artificial gravity field like the interiors of most starships, so as they passed through they were weightless. Add this to the fact that the plastoid was clear, and it took a focused mind to not get a severe case of vertigo as they looked at a vast open emptiness all around them.

Rika pushed herself along and reached the open door into the waiting ship and stumbled as she entered the gravity field. Orena was there to help her out of the tube and then turned to assist Randal, though he seemed to be more accustomed to transferring out of zero-g and simply stepped out and onto the deck.

"Welcome aboard the _Lion's Head_. Well, at least now we can talk at our own pace. Please, follow me," Orena said as she started to lead the way through the ship. Randal and Rika fell into step behind her, and as they walked, Orena gave a brief tour.

The corridors were rather thin, but the C70 was never designed to be an overly comfortable class of ship. Randal was sure that Rika had been in one of these before, but he hadn't been in one that had undergone the wartime refit. As they walked, he noticed that several of the more comfortable lounge rooms for the crew were replaced with durasteel tables and stools that were bolted to the deck. What used to be a lounge that had accommodated a crew of about five was redesigned to be a galley and house several squads worth of troops. Undoubtedly the rather plush, at least for a military transport, cabins were replaced with something more utilitarian. He also noticed that the outlying secondary cargo bays were now filled with gunnery equipment.

Orena led them to a turn in the corridor which led to an open door that led to a strategic meeting room in what was once called the salon pod. Inside, there was a large circular war holotable with chairs situated around it. Orena offered two of the seats to her guests and then sat down in another. Rika sat closest to Orena, and Randal chose the one on Rika's opposite side. Orena looked up when she heard the servo motors of a protocol droid and motioned for the military-esque painted droid to come over.

"Arby? Can you fetch us some refreshments?" she asked. The droid stopped in his tracks and saluted with his right hand before he turned back around and headed towards the galley.

"Yes sir!" Arby said. "Humph, perfectly good use for a military service droid; doing menial tasks befitting of a standard protocol droid..." whatever else he said was lost when the door closed behind him. Orena laughed lightly and turned back to her guests.

"Don't mind Arby. He was basically programmed to be a military staff officer. Something that he constantly reminds me of. So Rika, tell me how you survived the end of the war."

Rika then spent the better part of the next hour recounting how she had escaped Guannk with her life, wound up on Nar Shaddaa, then partnered up with Randal and escaped from the Empire to the Tingel Arm. She then told her about what had happened on Dienzo III, and the unfortunate ending of the village that they had helped.

Orena nodded solemnly and then shook her head as she looked at the table.

"Unfortunately, that's the way things are now under the Emperor's oppressive regime. It's strange, but I never would have thought that Palpatine would be capable of such atrocious actions." Rika cocked her eyebrows at Orena's statement, and then realized that she simply didn't know the truth about the Emperor. Rika and Randal had learned of his true nature from Senator Organa back when they first partnered up when she made a fool hardy attempt at learning what had really happened at the Jedi Temple. Her original question wasn't answered fully, but she did learn that the entire galaxy had simply been pawns in the Emperor's game.

"Perhaps not the man we thought he was, but unfortunately the truth is only more depressing." Orena shook her head lightly to show that she didn't follow. Rika took in a deep breath and told her what she knew. "You remember how the Council was searching for the Sith Master Darth Sidious, right? Well, when we were on Coruscant after the end of the war, we found out from Senator Organa that Palpatine _was_ Sidious, and that the entire war was his own ploy to get rid of the Jedi." Orena leaned back in her chair and took a moment to let it all sink in.

"That's... disturbing, to say the least," was all Orena could say. "Well, that only adds more support to the fact that the Empire needs to be stopped."

"Yeah, but how?" Randal said as he took a sip from his glass of water that Arby had brought while Rika was telling Orena her tale.

"Well, I'm glad you asked. Obviously everything you see here; Arby, this ship, even its crew, play a much larger role than just being a cargo ship. You see, after I managed to escape Order 66, I took this ship and planned on making a run for it the same that you did. However, I happened on a small reserve of military materiel and I had a vision. You said that the masters always told us that nothing happened by accident, well, I felt that the Force led me to this reserve. I made the decision then and there to use all that I had to take the fight to the Empire." Orena paused for a moment to let what she said sink in. "Now, I know that the two of you might have different plans, but I'd appreciate it if the two of you considered joining me."

Rika blinked several times and sat back in her seat. She herself felt that it was a noble enough cause. After all, the Empire had all ready decimated over a dozen different worlds all in the name of what it considered peace. If there ever was going to be a true peace in the galaxy, it certainly wasn't going to come with the Empire in existence. But while she was willing, Randal would be the one to resist. It had taken a near fight to get him to agree to help the beleaguered miners on Dienzo III. He always told her that it was best to just sit out and watch from the fringes of civilization. How was she now going to convince him that fighting the Empire was what they should do?

"Sure, I'm in," Randal said matter-of-factly. This sudden change in heart caught Rika by surprise and she merely looked at him in shock.

"And what about you, Rika? I could use a fellow Jedi in this," Orena said. Rika stared at Randal for another moment and then turned back to Orena and shook off her confusion and nodded her head.

"Of course. The Empire needs to be stopped, and the oppression of the Sith has to be ended." Orena smiled widely and then shook both of their hands before she toasted their good health and success.

After another hour where the two Jedi caught up with each other, they parted ways at the docking collar and Randal and Rika went back to the cockpit of the _Destrier_ to follow the _Lion's Head_ back to Orena's base of operations.

Once both ships had entered hyperspace, Rika leaned back in her seat and looked over at Randal with a questioning expression.

"You know, you surprised me back there. I was sure you were going to refuse her offer and I was going to have to try and twist your arm to change your mind." Randal smirked back and shrugged his shoulders as he reclined back in the pilot's chair.

"Well, if we had met up with her a week ago and she asked us to join her, you'd be right. But after Dienzo III, I realized that I can't think like that anymore. If no one ever stands up and tries to fight this Empire, then they're just going to continue to keep doing what they did. And if they think that Randal Sarn is just going to let them get away with killing innocent people like that, then they don't know me very well." Rika nodded and then looked back at the crystalline tunnel of hyperspace.

"You know that however large of an operation Orena may have, we're more than likely not going to be able to take on the Empire directly." Randal nodded, but then shrugged his shoulders as he put his hands behind his head.

"I know that. You'd have to be pretty stupid to think it'd be easy to take down a powerful figure like ol' Palps. But doing something, regardless of how little it would be, is better than just running back to the Tingel Arm and doing nothing."

"You're right about that." Rika then cocked one of her eyebrows and looked back at Randal while trying to suppress a smile. "And I thought it was _Captain_ Randal Sarn?"

* * *

_Jomoire. Outer Rim._

The _Destrier _exited hyperspace alongside the _Lion's Head_, and the first thing that Randal thought was that they had jumped somehow back in time. But once the ship fully reverted back into real space, he saw that the fourth planet orbiting Jomoire Prime was surrounded by the wreckage of two battle groups, both Republic and Separatist. All of the ships were merely pieces of those that weren't able to leave under their own power at the end of the battle that was fought here.

As Randal piloted the _Destrier_ through the wreckage as he followed the _Lion's Head_, he could tell that the battle had been fought early in the war, judging by the type of wreckage he could see. Many of the Republic ships were either Acclamators or the old Dreadnaughts from the days before the war even broke out. As they passed some of the ships, Rika pointed out several salvage crews rummaging through the wreckage, looking for anything that might still be useable.

Once they passed the wreckage, the planet of Jomoire rapidly approached. The entire planet was gray in color, the entire sky covered with thick unyielding clouds. The _Lion's Head_ entered the atmosphere and Randal followed. Rentry was about as rough as it usually was, but once they entered the clouds, Randal had to use his scopes to follow the engine signature of the _Lion's Head_. As they passed through the thick gray blanket, random flashes of lightning lit up the haze around them. Eventually they passed through the thick high cloud cover, wisps of the thick blanket still sticking to the hulls of the ships and trailed along with them until they lost their grip and eventually drifted back up.

Randal could now fly by sight and briefly looked down at the ground below. The ground looked relatively flat and covered with random patches of water and long winding rivers. Plant life was abundant, with long lanky trees with roots stretching far around their trunks and branches that reached far out, but oddly not up. They must have adapted to gather as much of the light as they could that was able to filter through the large gauze like cloud layer above.

After a short time, they started to pass over an area that wasn't covered in water and must have been one of the only areas that weren't all marsh-like. Old rusting relics of buildings and facilities littered the area, and occasionally they passed a structure that was obviously newer judging by the small amount of rust present on their surfaces. Rika could see the parts of hulls of old Separatist ships and looked up to see that they were heading for the largest intact remnant that she had seen so far.

As they drew nearer, both Randal and Rika could see that the weather beaten Lucrehulk core-ship was the only one that still had lights. The _Lion's Head_ banked to starboard and headed towards the open landing bay on the equator of the large spherical ship. Randal followed suit and powered down the throttle and lowered the gear, and settled in the landing bay alongside the larger _Lion's Head_.

While Randal shut down the engines, Rika stood from her seat and leaned forward in the cockpit to look around.

"Wow. It looks like her operation is a lot bigger than I thought it was."

"Yea. Let's take a look," Randal said as he powered down the ship's primary components and then exited the cockpit. As the entry ramp lowered, the smells and sounds of the hangar bay flooded in.

The hangar smelled of grease and welding flux; a smell that was common throughout the galaxy in any heavily worked in and often repaired station. The sounds of workers welding and grinding filled the entire hangar, and the echoing sounds of a voice saying something barely discernable coming from a loudspeaker reverberated off of every surface. It all reminded Randal of being in the Judicial Corps, and he bet himself that it must have reminded Rika of being back in a Republic cruiser during the Clone Wars.

When the two followed by Geefive exited the _Destrier_ and stood in the hangar looking around, Orena walked over from her ship and smiled widely as she gestured to everything around her.

"Welcome aboard the _Herald_. She may not look like much, but we're working on getting her space-worthy again."

"It's wonderful. I wasn't expecting anything like this," Rika said as she looked around. Randal nodded and hooked his thumbs onto the buckle of his gunbelt before he spoke.

"You're operation's a lot bigger than I thought it was going to be," he said. Orena shook her head with a light laugh and motioned for the trio to follow her.

"Don't let the size of the ship fool you, we are a very small operation. The last head count we had was around 250. Volunteers continue to keep coming in, so our numbers keep growing. But all in all, we're still rather small." Orena started to lead them through the hangar bay towards the central bulkhead and the open turbolift doors.

"So volunteers aren't hard to come by then?" Randal asked as they entered the turbolift.

"At first it was hard to find anyone willing to fight a government as large and strong as the Empire. But after they showed their true colors on planets like Gibad and Naboo, volunteers just started to pour in. The entirety of our fighter division were members of the Naboo Royal Spacefighter Corps who defected after the assassination of Queen Apailana."

"Assassination? I thought I heard she was killed by terrorists?" Rika asked.

"That's what the Empire's propaganda would have you believe. But the truth is they killed her for harboring fugitive Jedi." Orena stopped the turbolift and got out on an observation level. As Randal and Rika followed her, they could see out of the transparasteel windows to all of the large open areas below, like the docking bay that they had just left.

"This is the observational deck. From here, you can see everything that we have so it makes a good spot to give a tour of our operation. Below's the hangar bay we just left. This ship has two other main bays, attached by the large blast doors on either side. In the far one over there," she pointed to their right, "we mainly just keep storage containers filled with parts and other equipment. But in the other, we keep our fighters," Orena then led the way to the window where they could look down into the fighter holding bay. Randal looked down and saw the familiar profiles of one of the most common fighters in the galaxy.

"Z-95's. Not bad." He quickly did a count of what he could see and came up with twenty three. He raised his brow and gave a complimentary whistle before he turned back to Orena.

"How'd you get so many of them?" Orena shrugged and answered as she looked out the window at the pilots and crews going over the fighters.

"They were on this ship when I "rescued" it from a band of pirates. There was also a large number of droids aboard; mainly service models, but a few military grade ones too. We have tech crews working with those to see if we can configure them to run without having a control ship present. You see, the _Herald_ was abandoned here early in the war, so many of the technological advances that were made later are absent here."

"So was the _Herald_ a derelict when you found it?" Rika asked.

"No," Orena said as she shook her head. "She had apparently crash landed here during the battle that left all that debris in space. When I came here, the pirate band was all ready well on their way repairing this core ship back to its former state. Since that time, I've had crews of both droids and organic technicians working around the clock to fully repair the ship. Most of the parts we needed were salvaged from the other wrecks around here, and we were even able to secure a hyperdrive from the wreckage of an Acclamator. Now, she'll never be as fast as one of those, but she'll still be a formidable ship once she's ready to go. Now if you'll follow me, I can show you our communications center." Rika nodded, and they followed Orena back to the turbolift.

When they exited after a brief ride up, they walked down the corridor and entered a set of double doors. Randal remembered the layout of the _Lucrehulk_ class from two years ago, when Rika and himself were trying to find a way of escaping from a pursuing Imperial ship. The double doors here opened up to a large room next to the bridge that was filled with computer stations and several holographic glass panels showing various data streams that scrolled across their surfaces. Sitting at the central terminal with all four hands busily working at four separate tasks was a Xexto male. He briefly turned his head away from his monitor and nodded before he went back to his work.

"This is Trl Wann, our expert slicer. Trl... Trl!" Orena yelled loudly. Trl turned his head and with one of his hands removed the pair of headphones he was wearing and cocked one of his large eyes at her.

"What?"

"This is Randal Sarn and Rika Tymor. They've joined our operation."

"Hi, hi, hi. Pleased to meet you, lots of work to do," Trl said rather quickly and went back to rapidly working the four different sets of controls. Orena shrugged and then started to head towards the doors that led to the bridge.

"I keep telling him to lay off the caf, but he still drinks several pots a day. We were lucky that this ship's communications arrays were still complete. From that room, Trl can monitor any transmissions made within a hundred parsecs. He's also able to slice into any Imperial communications array too, but we try and not do that too often. We don't want to draw any attention to us before the ship's mobile."

Orena continued to walk through the bridge and then entered a room on the opposite side of the bridge from the communications room. The dimensions of the room were identical, but instead of all the communications equipment, there was just a round table with chairs. When she entered, two human males and a Wookie stood from their chairs and welcomed the newcomers.

"I called a meeting of the division commanders before we landed so you could meet them in one place. Everyone, this is Rika Tymor, a fellow Jedi that has agreed to join our operation."

"Another Jedi? Always glad to have another Force user on our side," the male on the far left said.

"And this is her partner, Captain Randal Sarn," Orena said as she motioned to Randal. Randal nodded to the group, and the man sitting beside the first crossed his arms and raised a brow as he looked Randal over.

"_Captain_? You give that rank to yourself 'cause you fly a freight-can across the galaxy?" Randal smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

"I got that rank a long time ago."

"Did you now?" Orena lightly coughed into her hand to diffuse the staring match that the two were having and motioned for everyone to sit down before she went around the room introducing everyone else.

"This is Commander Allin Oannes, formerly from the Alderaanian Guard and now the leader of our ground forces," Orena said as she introduced the man on the far left.

"This is Commander Marcus Fah from the Naboo Royal Spacefighter Corps. Obviously he's in charge of the fighter squadron," Orena said as she introduced the man to Allin's left. Rika nodded and Randal gave him a smirk, but Marcus only looked away disgustedly at Randal.

"And this is Tholkurtii, or Thol as I call him. He's the head engineer aboard the _Herald_ and he's been with me since the end of the war. He's in charge of the reconstruction of this station and the maintenance crews who work on the fighters." The Wookie nodded his hairy head and leaned back in his chair. "Well, that's everyone. Do either of you have any questions?" Orena asked with a smile.

"Well, I was wondering one thing," Rika said. Orena nodded for her to continue. "I know that we're all here to fight the Empire, but I'm just curious as to how we're going to do it."

"That's easy," Marcus said. "Anywhere the Empire decides to poke its nose where it doesn't belong, we're going to make them regret it."

"Yeah, but how?" Randal asked.

"By taking the fight to them," Marcus said in a manner as if he were talking to a child. Randal shook his head and let out a laugh before he continued to argue.

"Look, this is a pretty big operation you've got here. Hell, I've seen planetary defense forces with less equipment than what I've seen so far here, but you can't tell me you honestly expect to go head to head with the Empire and think you're going to survive longer than thirty seconds, do you?"

"Maybe it's hard for some scruffy haired smuggler to comprehend, but this isn't just some band of illiterate unruly pirates. This is a disciplined, well organized military style of organization, and I'll be damned if I have to sit here and be ridiculed by someone who thinks they deserve the title of Captain because they fly some hunk of durasteel from one rock to another!" Randal was about to come back with another quip, but Orena held her hands up and spoke loudly and with an authority that one wouldn't expect from a female of her size.

"Gentlemen! Let's all take a deep breath and settle down." Orena let a moment of silence pass and took notice of both Randal and Marcus's body language. Randal crossed his arms and looked irritated, but Rika gave him a sideways glance and he lightly shrugged his shoulders and seemed to calm down. Marcus was still furious, but his years of military indoctrinated discipline kept him in line.

"Now, let me answer your question, Rika," Orena said more calmly than her tone before. She opened her hands widely and with her palms up as she explained. "When I first had the idea to start this operation, I had originally wanted to fight the Empire everywhere and anywhere possible. But, of course, common sense told me that if the Separatists couldn't defeat the Republic with all that they had at their disposal, there wouldn't be any way I could stop the Empire, at least not in any traditional manner. But there was one way I saw that I knew could help lead to their end.

"You see, about six months after the end of the war, Thol and I had all ready found the _Herald_ and were starting to rebuild it. I then had a chance meeting with the senator of Chandrila, Mon Mothma, whom I had originally met several months before the end of the war. We both agreed that the Empire needs to be stopped, and that it would take a great effort by many to do so. She said that there were several senators who shared our beliefs, but they were all reluctant to proclaim an outright revolution against Palpatine just yet. She said that they were biding their time, slowly building up their reserves to when the time would be right. Of course she's a politician, so her time table could be many years. And while that's fine for politicians who would fight such a war from behind closed doors, I knew that it would be the people of this galaxy that would be doing the fighting. Years, possibly decades, would simply be too long for them to hold on to any hope of freedom to return. And that's where the goal of this operation comes into play.

"We don't have to engage Imperial forces directly in combat the way the Republic and the Separatists fought, but we still have to let the people know that there are those who are willing to stand up against the Empire and fight. By doing that, I know that we can keep some hope alive in this galaxy."

"So does that mean raids on Imperial outposts? Maybe hit a shipment or two?" Randal asked. Orena lightly shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

"Somewhat. At first, I thought doing hit and runs against targets such as those would be enough, and at first they were. But after the fifth attack run against Imperial cargo barges, they started to have armed escorts. It started to become apparent that the more attacks we did, the more dangerous they would become. Add to that the fact that the cargo we would confiscate didn't really provide much of a profit, and we had to start looking for something else."

"Profit?" Randal said as he perked up and sat up in his chair. "Sounds like you had some piracy going on."

"Well, yes, if you want to call it that. As much as I didn't want to have to think about credits, they are needed for something like this. Everyone here is working basically for free, but it still takes a steady flow of credits to keep everything running. Everything from supplies for the personnel, armament for both the soldiers and the ships, parts for the fighters, even food to keep everyone up and running costs credits. What credit income we were able to get from selling what supplies we took from our raids kept us going, but with more volunteers coming in, and the more resistance we meet, the less the raids become feasible. That's why we recently made the decision to branch out to other forms of hostility against the Empire, and another reason why I've gathered everyone here today."

"Did you make contact?" Allin asked. Orena nodded, but when she saw the confused look on Rika's face, she smiled and explained.

"The decision was made to hire ourselves out to any who could use our services as long as it was against the Empire. I was on Ascension Station to meet a contact."

"So it's mercenary work then? Sounds good to me, so long as it's against the Empire," Randal said as he nodded.

"That's the first thing you've said that I agree with," Marcus said from across the table. Randal smirked but let the jibe go unanswered.

"I made contact with an operative for a potential client. He wants to meet in neutral territory to discuss the job he wants us to do."

"Can he be trusted?" Throl asked in his native Shyriiwook. Orena translated what he had said to those at the table who didn't speak the language, and then answered his question.

"I highly doubt a Count of Serenno would be in league with the Empire."

"Count of Serenno? I thought he was killed?" Randal commented.

"Count Dooku was killed, but he was only one of them. Each of the six great houses are led by a count," Rika explained. Randal raised both of his brows and was impressed with Rika's amount of randomly useless knowledge.

"Yes, our contact is Count Nalju. He wants to meet me at a preselected rendezvous point and discuss our business there. I was planning on taking the _Lion's Head_ there, but now that the two of you are with us, I was hoping you could take me in the _Destrier_. I think it would be less alarming if we arrived in a freighter and not a frigate." Randal shrugged and nodded his head.

"Sounds good to me. When do we leave?"

"Whenever you're ready," Orena said with a smile. Randal nodded and then everyone at the table got up to leave. As the meeting broke up, Marcus Fah came up to Randal and spoke curtly.

"You had better bring Orena back in one piece. She's the only thing keeping this operation together, and if we lose her, it's all gone. And I'd put the blame entirely on you."

"Of course, I wouldn't want it any other way," Randal said as he stared Marcus back in the eye, all the while smirking widely. Rika touched Randal on the arm and pulled him away.

"What's gotten into you? The two of you're acting like a couple of children."

"Well he started it," Randal said jokingly. Rika lightly shook her head, but couldn't keep from smiling. "Where's Orena at?"

"Right here. Let's go, shall we?" Randal nodded, and then led the way back to the turbolift that would take them back down to the hangar bay.

When they reached the bay, Randal told Geefive to bring the _Destrier_ online. Once they were all onboard, with Randal and Rika in their usual spots, Geefive jacked into the ship's computer, and Orena standing in the middle of the cockpit, the _Destrier_ lifted off and headed out from the cloud covered planet and off to the rendezvous.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Down to Business

_Destrier. In hyperspace route to rendezvous point._

Orena Melar took a moment once the _Destrier_ was safely in hyperspace to take a look around the small freighter. She took the first left out of the corridor and briefly looked over the main cargo bay. It was nearly empty, and the few plasteel containers only held a few random objects that were either indiscernible by themselves, or spare random parts to something larger. Orena randomly picked a few of them up and after looking them over briefly, put them back in their containers.

The engine room was much like any other she had ever seen, maybe with a few more piping conduits than normal, but that was expected from a smuggler's vessel. As she continued to casually look around, she wondered about Rika's partner.

Normally, she could gauge a person's nature and intent merely by looking at them through the Force. It had been that way with everyone working in her operation, and she had a pretty clear view of why each of them was willing to fight the Empire. Allin felt it was his duty to defend the defenseless, and would willingly take on the most difficult of tasks without batting an eye. Marcus was the same, if not slightly more arrogant about his abilities. Thol was determined to not let what happened to his tribe happen to any others and he would fiercely fight the Empire to his last breath. Rika was much the same as Orena herself in the way that it was their sworn duty to uphold the rights of every citizen and defend them against any oppressive force in the galaxy. After all, that was the true purpose of the Jedi.

But while Orena was able to get a reading on everyone else through the Force, Randal Sarn proved to be more difficult than she would have anticipated. When she looked at him through the Force, she saw a man who was fiercely independent and one who would only trust someone as far as he could throw them. She could also see that he buried his true self deep within, and kept himself guarded by a strong mental wall. Orena had encountered strong willed individuals before, and while they were difficult to read through the Force, they always had some small chink in their self imposed armor that could reveal themselves. But while most usually held on to an idea or a belief, Randal didn't seem to cling to any truths or beliefs. The only thing he seemed to allow inside his defensive shell was Rika.

Rika trusted Randal with her life, and while Orena personally could accept this as a voucher for his personality, she needed more to be able to trust him fully within her organization. After all, there were many lives on the line, and they all relied on her to make sure that she kept them safe. She needed to be able to trust Randal, but to do that, she needed to know what about him made Rika trust him so completely.

She found Rika in the small galley filling a self boiling kettle with water. Rika looked up and smiled and offered a mug.

"You want some stim tea? It's a Caamas blend."

"Sure," Orena said as she took a seat at the holotable. "Caamas tea is rather expensive, isn't it?" Rika brought the self boiling kettle and two mugs over to the table and started to pour the tea into them.

"It can be, but like Randal says, nothing but the best for his ship," she said playfully mocking Randal's roguish manner. Rika took a seat on the accelerator couch on the other side of the table and took a careful sip of the hot drink. Orena lightly blew on hers and looked over the rim of her mug.

"I've been meaning to ask you about Randal."

"What do you want to know?" Rika asked, slightly puzzled by Orena's purpose.

"It's not that I don't trust him, Rika, it's just that I don't know him. You know and trust him, but I have to think about all the lives within my organization and I have to put their safety first. You understand. I normally can get a read of anyone with the Force, but Randal..."

"He's difficult to read?" Rika asked with a slight smile. "Yes, he is at times. When I first met him, I couldn't get much more than his general mood at the time. At first I thought it was because of a slight problem with the Force I was having, but when that got cleared up, I realized that there was more to it than that. He's remarkably strong willed, which contradicts his appearance on first impressions."

"So what else can you tell me about him?" Orena asked as she took a sip of her tea. Rika shrugged and looked down into her mug, and watched the dregs settle and swirl around the bottom of her mug.

"Well, beneath that rogue persona he puts on, he's fiercely loyal. He's risked his own life on more than one occasion to save my own, and I can honestly say that I'd do the same for him."

"Really?" Orena asked. Rika looked up from her tea and saw Orena looking at her with a heavy interest; something that made Rika's cheeks flush and made her regret saying what she just told her. "How far would you go to save him?" she asked calmly, yet seriously. "Would you sacrifice yourself? Turn to the dark side for him?"

"What? I- I don't know. I've never thought about that," Rika said quickly and agitatedly. Orena didn't press any further, but she let out a slow sigh and then lightly shook her head.

"Rika, you know the rule about attachment. We all do." Rika looked away from Orena, wanting anything in the galaxy to not be having this conversation right now, and certainly not with clan suubatar's star pupil, the student who could do no wrong in the Masters' eyes.

"Yes, I know the rule. And if the Masters were here, they'd be right behind you, patting you on the back while condemning me for being faithful to someone who has the decency to be loyal in times like these. In case you haven't noticed, time are so rough out there that people are turning in their neighbors for just a handful of credits, nowhere close to the million credit bounty they've placed on our kind. And the mere fact that Randal doesn't want that blood money, and risks his own life to keep me safe is the one single reason that I would look those Masters back in the eye and tell them that they're wrong."

Orena didn't speak for awhile, and merely just blinked a few times at Rika's outburst. Maybe she wasn't used to someone opposing her, or maybe Rika had caught her off guard.

"Rika," she said finally, "I do believe that if you would've spoken up like that more often when we were younger, it would've been you who would have been selected as a Padawan first." Orena then smiled warmly, and reached across the table and took Rika's hand.

"You trust him, and so I trust him." Rika sheepishly smiled back and felt embarrassed about her outburst, but Orena didn't continue the conversation and instead continued to sip her tea. When they were both finished, Rika took the mugs to the small sink and Orena went back to the cockpit to check on how much time they had left. When she was sure Orena was gone, she let out a long sigh and shook her head slightly. If Rika had ever thought that she would ever find the nerve to stand up and tell Orena Melar what she actually thought instead of just quietly submitting, she would never have imagined it happening like that.

Randal briefly looked up when he heard the door open behind him and then turned back to the console readouts. Orena didn't sit down in the copilot's chair, but instead stood besides Geefive, who turned his dome around and whistled something that she didn't understand. While she had a natural Force-given ability to fully understand any spoken language, she couldn't understand droid binary due to them not being an organic life form. Whatever he had said, Randal didn't comment back.

"We're almost there, just a few more minutes."

"Good. I hope this meeting proves fruitful, otherwise we'll have to look for something else to provide the credits we need." Randal nodded and then turned around slightly in his chair.

"Well, there's always smuggling. You could fit a lot of spice into that frigate of yours." Orena lightly shook her head and let out a slight laugh.

"True, but I'd rather bring hope to the people in this galaxy, not help feed their addictions."

"You've got a point there," Randal said as he turned back to the flight controls. A light on the navicomputer started to flash slowly and Randal reached for the intercom.

"Rika? We're approaching now," he said into the intercom microphone. Within a few seconds, Rika entered the cockpit and took her seat. Randal went over and flipped a few switches and then engaged the sublight engines.

"All right, here we are," he said as he pushed the hyperdrive lever forward, bringing the _Destrier_ out of hyperspace with a slight wave of inertia that crept up the back of their necks with a slight hint of vertigo. Randal pushed the throttle for the sublight engines forward and briefly looked around at the exterior area. They were in another empty area of space, the nearest celestial body at least a light-year away. Rika looked into the sensor scope and then shook her head.

"There's nothing out there. Did we arrive early?" Orena looked at her chronometer and nodded her head.

"Yes, we're a few minutes early. I didn't plan for your ship having a faster hyperdrive than the _Lion's Head_."

"Well, nothing but the best for the _Destrier_ I always say."

"Wait, here we go. There's a ship coming out of hyperspace now," Rika said as she looked up from the scope and pointed out the area where the ship was emerging.

At first, it appeared to be a star shining brightly against the backdrop of space, but the pinpoint of light moved from side to side. Eventually the pinpoint grew in size, and soon it was larger than any other sight in the open expanse. When it finally came into focus, Randal let out an impressed whistle.

The ship that emerged from hyperspace was a custom Nubian J-type diplomatic transport, with the natural durasteel skin polished to a brilliant sheen and a set of blue and white stripes on each of the massive wings. As the Nubian ship came closer to the _Destrier_, their pilot made contact and the docking procedure started. Once the two ships were connected with the docking tube, the trio made their way to the docking ring airlock and opened the seal.

Orena went through the tube first, followed by Rika. Randal made to follow, but paused briefly and looked back at Geefive, who was rocking back and forth nervously.

"Keep the engines primed. I don't know how this is going to end, so we better be prepared." Geefive whistled in agreement and headed back towards the cockpit. When Randal got to the other side of the tube, he stepped out and stretched his back as he looked around.

The inside of the Nubian was immaculate. The decking and the walls were spotless, and the interior had a smell that was reminiscent of a spiced flavor of tea. He kept the _Destrier_ in a clean efficient state, but compared to this, it might as well have been a rusty oily mess. Randal could tell just by the spotlessness of the ship that he was dealing with a member of the aristocracy.

Rika and Orena were standing near the circular hatchway and were speaking with a chromium plated protocol droid.

"Hello, and welcome aboard Count Nalju's private shuttle. If you will follow me, please." With a polite nod, Orena was the first to follow the droid and the other two came close behind her. As they walked down the ornately designed corridor, Orena leaned back and whispered to Rika.

"Do you sense anything?" Rika thought about it for a moment and then whispered back.

"I can feel a slight uneasiness, but at the same time a level of confidence coming from ahead."

"Yes, I feel the same. Not unusual, given the circumstances, but best to stay on guard none the less," Orena said as the corridor opened up to a large circular room that had an ornate wooden table with chairs lining one end, and a larger more plush upholstered chair at the far end. Besides the table, however, the room was empty. Randal looked the room over and noticed what appeared to be a small holo lens in the angle where the bulkhead met the ceiling. He continued to study it from the corner of his eye as the droid motioned towards the chairs at one end of the table.

"If you will wait here, my master will be with you shortly," the droid said before it turned and left, the door closing behind it. Though they were offered the seats, none of the three took one. Rika stretched out with the Force and thought she could feel a slight change in the one source of disturbance she could detect, but before she could comment, it happened.

The room's four doors opened at once, and into the room poured a squadron of B1 battle droids, each of them holding their blaster rifles to their metallic shoulders ready to fire. Both Orena and Rika reacted instantly; Orena pulled and activated her green bladed lightsaber and Rika, not having hers on her, pulled her Merr-Sonn Power 5 and leveled it at one of the droids. Randal pulled his DL-44, but before opening fire, he noticed that one of the droids seemed to flicker. As Orena entered her mastered stance of Niman and Rika leveled her blaster at one of the droids, Randal quickly aimed at the holo lens and fired. With an explosive shatter, the lens crumbled to pieces and all of the droids flickered and disappeared.

For a moment while Orena and Rika looked around questioning what had just happened, the series of a single person clapping came from one of the corridors. All three turned to see who it was, and a tall well groomed man in his early fifties walked in. He had a neatly trimmed black mustache and his slicked back black hair was highlighted by wisps of gray in his temples. As he entered, he continued to clap slowly and smiled from one side of his mouth. Rika lowered her blaster in confusion, but Orena kept her lightsaber activated, but did stand down from her stance. Randal merely let out an annoyed sigh and holstered his blaster.

"Remarkable. I would have thought it would have taken you at least ten seconds before you destroyed my holo emitter."

"Count Nalju, I presume?" Orena said with an obvious irritation in her voice. The gentleman nodded his head and held his hand to his chest as he slightly bowed.

"I do apologize for such a, how can I put this, ungentlemanly presentation, but I had to be sure that you weren't agents of the Empire trying to root out dissidents. Your obvious showing of that rather elegant weapon proves that point well enough, I should think." Orena looked down at her still activated lightsaber and nodded as she released the activation stud and replaced it on her belt.

"A simple verbal interrogation could have provided the same result," Orena commented, once again returning to her state of calm. The Count lightly shrugged and then shook his head.

"Yes, but that would have taken time, and doubtfully would have provided such results. Please, let us put this unpleasantness behind us and proceed with business." Orena nodded, and then took a seat in one of the chairs at the end of the table. Randal and Rika sat down as well, and the Count took the seat at the head of the table.

"Would any of you care for some refreshments?" the Count asked.

"No, thank you," Orena said politely.

"Well then, straight to business. My contacts have informed me that you lead an operation of privateers. From what reports I've been able to see, you seem to possess a level of resources that rival that of most defensive military forces. I've also been informed that you're willing to hire yourselves out for the right price."

"Price is negotiable. Our only stipulation is that we don't fight innocents; we'd prefer to defend them. We also would prefer our target to be one of the Empire. If you couldn't tell, we have an obvious issue with them," Orena said. Nalju smiled cunningly and nodded his head as he leaned back in his seat to become more comfortable.

"Ah yes, the Empire. As the old saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. While your "issue" with the Empire is personal and quite obvious, mine is more of a financial reason. You see, after my illustrious Uncle, from my mother's side of course, waged his war against the Republic and subsequently lost his head, the Houses of Serrenno haven't been on the popularity list of anyone on Coruscant, especially not the Old Man's."

"Don't you mean Imperial Center?" Randal commented sarcastically. Nalju rolled his eyes and seemed offended by the very mentioning of the new name.

"I'll refer to it as I always have and always will. The Empire hasn't been the most gracious of conquerors, and has imposed fairly stiff tarrifs on Serrenno. But, credits go a long way in making customs officials look the other way. But that's not the reason that I wish to purchase your operation's services. You see, when I'm not doing business, I busy myself with my collecting. I have over two thousand different rare artifacts in my private collection and I'm always looking for more. Most I've been able to purchase from other private collectors, but others I've had to purchase at auctions. The problem with that, though, is that there are other collectors bidding on items. Sometimes an item I fancy adding to my collection gets by my bidding agent and I have to look for other ways of procuring the item."

"You don't attend the auctions yourself?" Rika asked.

"If they're close to Serrenno, I do. But contrary to what you may think judging by the lavish surroundings around you, I do have a day job. House Nalju may be one of the richest dynasties in the galaxy, but unless I continue to increase our revenue, our status in that regard would quickly fade away. Those auctions that I can't attend are tended to by an entire army of experts in my employ."

"Well, while that's interesting and all, I'm sure you're wasting billions of credits by being away from your, well, whatever it is you do. So what is it you want us to steal?" Randal said matter-of-factly. The Count raised his brows in surprise to Randal's brashness; something that didn't escape Orena's notice. For a brief second, she panicked. If Randal had offended the Count, he could very easily end this meeting and she would have to start all over again. But if the Count was offended, he didn't show it.

"What makes you think I want you to steal something?" the Count asked with a smile. Randal made to answer, but Orena sat forward in her seat and answered first, trying to diffuse the situation.

"He wasn't implying that you wanted something stolen, he was just-"

"No, my young Jedi, your Corellian friend is right. But, before I tell you, I'd like to know how you deduced that fact." Randal looked briefly at Orena, who was now looking at Randal for his explanation with a slightly annoyed expression on her face. Rika was looking at him too, but he could see that she was trying to suppress a smile. By now, she was used to Randal's straight forward and often infuriating nature.

"Well," Randal said with a shrug, "you said that sometimes you have to look for alternative methods to getting something you want for your collection. And since you've obviously got the credits, you would just buy the item from whoever has it, but since you're talking to us, they obviously won't sell. I can also tell that whatever this thing is you want, it must be pretty well protected."

"And what makes you say that?" the Count asked with a wide grin. It was obvious he was enjoying this.

"Because you mentioned that your reports say we've got as many resources as a small military force. You could easily just hire a bounty hunter or a professional thief to steal this thing for you, but instead you went with the small military. Am I right?" Randal asked with a smirk. The Count let out a delighted laugh and clapped his hands.

"Bravo, sir. Yes, you're right. The artifact I want you to procure for me is known as the Loag Dagger. It was a ceremonial black blade that a guild of assassins or something of that sort used for ceremonies. Whatever its original use was, I want it for its historical value. It's currently in the possession of one of the Old Man's regional governors, a pompous ass called Edus Talan. He's governor of the Glythe sector and has a garrison there. Most likely, he would keep the dagger in his private collection there. And due to that fact is why I want to hire your organization."

"A garrison? We haven't hit anything that large yet," Orena said more or less to herself with a furrowed brow.

"Understandable. But I am willing to pay a substantial amount for the procurement of the dagger. How you go about it isn't any of my concern, but I would like it to get back to the Old Man. Anything that can give him some indigestion is worth my credits, I always say."

"How much are we talking here?" Randal asked. The Count shrugged lightly and then answered.

"I can pay you two million now, and another three on delivery of the dagger." Randal's eyes went wide and he nearly passed out in shock in his chair. Rika was shocked as well, but contained herself slightly better than her partner. Orena simply nodded and then rested both of her hands on the table, clasped together.

"All right, we'll take the job. We're going to have to investigate the garrison first, so it may be some time before we can retrieve the dagger. But I assure you, we will acquire it for you."

After the Count nodded, and had his droid deliver a case containing two million in hard credits, he simply nodded his head in farewell and left the meeting room. The trio went back to the docking tube and didn't say a word until they were back on the _Destrier_ and the two ships had separated.

"Five million? That bastard must have more credits than he knows what to do with!" Randal said as he smiled widely and shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, that "bastard," as you put it, wants us to attack an Imperial garrison. Just how are we going to do that?" Rika asked incredulously.

"We're just going to have to trust in the Force to find a way," Orena said as she headed towards the cockpit and the communications station that was behind the pilot's chair.

"Sure, that whole Force thing works for you two, but the rest of us have to rely on plain old luck and intuition," Randal said as he followed her. Orena stopped in her tracks and turned around, pointing a finger at Randal and narrowing her eyes in annoyance.

"You have to be the most trying person for a Jedi to ever possibly work with. How Rika managed to maintain her composure for the past two years, I'll never know. But I want you to remember one thing; this operation is mine. I make the decisions and I do the negotiating. If you don't like that, then you can stay on the ship."

"All right, calm down, sister. You don't want to lose your cool and go all dark side, or whatever it is that happens," Randal said with a smirk. Orena let out a sigh and shook her head as she turned around and began again to head towards the cockpit.

Randal lightly shrugged and looked over at Rika.

"You think I went too far?" Randal asked.

"Just a little," Rika said with a frown. As the two started down the narrow corridor that led to the cockpit, she spoke lightly, but sternly enough for him to get her message.

"I'm used to your _charming_ personality, but Orena's not. Remember, she was a General during the war; she's not used to anyone talking back to her. In fact, I doubt if anyone ever has before. You keep pushing her buttons and I don't know how she'll react. Besides, you wanted to be here, remember?"

"Yea, I know. I guess I'll just have to pick on you instead," he said straight faced. Rika looked up at Randal and gave her own version of his smirk.

"You can try."

When they entered the cockpit, Orena was already sitting in the chair behind Randal's and was holding a pair of headphones to her ear. Geefive whistled that he had a connection and projected a small hologram of Trl on the deck.

"General," Trl said as he barely looked up into the holo-camera as he continued to click rapidly on his controls. "Had any luck with the Count?"

"Yes, I did. I need you to look up any information that you can on the Imperial garrison in the Glythe Sector."

"Garrison? The Count want us to go to war?" he said in his rushed manner. "Give me a second here... Oh, lovely. All Imperial data channels regarding the garrison is class 3 restricted. I can slice into it, but for the three point seven-eight seconds I'd need to download everything possible, we'd be visible to the Empire. Not sure you want that to happen without the hyperdrive being functional yet."

"No, I don't want that. Is there anything that you can access without setting of any alarms?"

"Hmm, let's see. Well, I can tell you the garrison is a stationary space station, KDY Impenetrable class. Those have the capacity to hold up to six squadrons of fighters, ten thousand troops, and several units of armored assault vehicles. Not sure if this particular one is fully crewed or not. I can get shipping manifests if you think that would help."

"Possibly. Where exactly is the station?"

"Ah, now that I can answer. The station is in a slow orbit around Glythe Prime, about two AU's away from the central star." Orena nodded, and then ran her fingers over her chin as she thought.

"There's no way to know what that garrison has until we actually see it," Orena contemplated out loud. "Looks like we're going to have to do exactly that."

"Wait, what? You want us to fly to an Imperial garrison just to take a look?" Randal asked with a cocked brow.

"It'd just be for a look around; we wouldn't even get close to the actual base. We can tell how many fighters they have by seeing how many they have on patrol," Rika said, agreeing with Orena.

"Oh now that's not fair, two against one?" Randal said as he shook his head. Geefive twittered angrily and Randal then shrugged. "All right, two against two, then."

"Rika's right. It'd just be for a look; we won't even get close to the garrison. The scanners on your ship are more than adequate for us to get a reading on what all's there. And once we get a look, we'll leave just as quickly as we came. The Empire won't even know we were there."

"Well," Randal said with a resigning sigh, "I hope your right. If we get caught, that's pretty much going to be all she wrote." Randal stepped over the hologram and took his seat in the pilot's chair. As he engaged the throttle and followed the exit vector that the navicomputer set, Orena gave her orders to Trl.

"Tell the commanders that we got the job and we're now going to do a recon. When we get back, I'll debrief everyone on what we have to do." Trl nodded in return and then the hologram flickered away.

As Randal continued to wait for the navicomputer, Orena stood from her chair and left the cockpit. Rika took her usual seat and looked out at the stars.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Randal asked as he reached for the hyperdrive lever.

"No," Rika said with a slight shrug. "But it's the only option we have besides flying in blind and getting our butts kicked."

"Yea, maybe. Either way, I've got a bad feeling about all this."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Bantha Milk Run

_Glythe System, Mid Rim_

Randal sat tensely in his chair. Though both Orena and Rika were fixed on their equipment, getting readings on the Imperial space station, Randal continued to stare out of the viewport in the station's general direction. Though they were over three million kilometers away, and there was no way to see the station with the naked eye, it eased Randal's anxiety, but only slightly.

He had settled the _Destrier_ down in an orbital debris field that circled one of the system's gas giant planets. The debris field was made up of large asteroids and other large hunks of what possibly could have at one time been one of the giant's moons. Randal didn't really care what it was once, all he knew was that it had a high iron content, and that was perfect for disguising the _Destrier_'s energy signature.

They had been here for nearly half an hour, and for that entire time, the three sat quietly; Randal on edge and looking for anything that might come their way (even though either Rika or Orena would have spotted anything first with the scanners) and both Rika and Orena watching what the scanners could pick up of the station. The scanners showed the outline of the station and any patrolling craft, but it couldn't show anything that wasn't fully active. From what the scanners could show, there were two flights of three fighters each, and what appeared to be one turbolaser battery. While this information was fine, it wasn't enough to go on, and Orena knew that.

"Blast," she said as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms disgustedly.

"What?" Randal said as he slightly jumped.

"These readings are just too vague. There's no way to know just how many fighters and what weapons they have," Orena explained as she ran a hand through her hair exhaustedly.

"I thought you said you could tell how many fighters they had by just seeing what they had patrolling?" Randal asked Rika.

"Well," Rika said as she shrugged, "if they follow the same procedures that the Grand Army did during the war, then they would have two fighters from each squadron do the patrolling. There's three flights, so three squadrons."

"I'm waiting for the 'but'."

"But," Orena finished, "it was also Grand Army procedure to have all the turbo lasers active, which this station does not have because it wouldn't have just one. So either they're breaking procedure, which is unlikely, or the new regime has installed a new set of procedures that we don't know about."

"Great; so what now?" Randal asked as he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Well, anything short of just flying in there to take a visual look isn't going to produce any other results than what we have now," Orena said as she shook her head.

"We can't just fly in there to take a look and try to fight our way out. The _Destrier_'s not a warship, no matter how much Randal likes to brag about it," Rika said. Randal gave her a sideways look and was about to argue with her, but he stopped and gave her a wide smirk.

"Maybe not, but she's got other things." He turned around in his chair and faced Orena, still smirking widely. "You have that shipping manifest that Trl mentioned?"

"Yes," she said with a confused look on her face. She pulled the data up on her screen and then shook her head; she had no idea what Randal had in mind.

Randal scanned over the long and boringly detailed manifest list and then tapped the screen on a certain entry.

"There, that one'll do." Both Rika and Orena leaned forward and read the line on the screen.

VESSEL REGISTRY NUMBER: 15733689743A100035

REGISTERED NAME: _PLYMPTO'S HONOR_

VESSEL DESIGNATION: FREIGHTER; PRIVATE OPERATOR

SHIPMENT TYPE: PICK UP

"You're crazy," Rika said as she shook her head. Randal smiled back and turned back around to his flight controls.

"Trust me, it'll work." Orena simply had no idea what the two were going on about, and had no idea what Randal had in mind.

"Excuse me, but could someone please enlighten me on to what exactly is going on?"

"It's simple, Sweetheart. Like the two of you said, the only way we're going to be able to know what they have is to fly in there and take a look. But the _Destrier_ is on their wanted list, I'm sure, so we can't fly in there as we are. And besides, they wouldn't let us in even if we weren't on their poodoo list. But the _Plympto's Honor_ on the other hand..."

"Okay, I understand that part. But we can't simply just _tell_ them we're this other ship. They'll scan your transponder and then we're done for."

"True, at least for any other ship. Geefive, edit our transponder and set it up for the _Plympto's Honor_." Geefive twittered an enthusiastic affirmative and his data probe spun busily as he got to work. Orena's eyes went wide and she shook her head in disbelief.

"You have an editable transponder? I didn't think that was even possible?"

"It's possible, just not cheap. But like I always say, nothing but the best for the _Destrier_."

"So we're just going to fly in there and take whatever this shipment is?" Rika asked.

"Yea, why not. It'll be a bonus to add to what we're really going in there for."

"But what about the _Plympto's Honor_? I mean, the real one? What if they show up?"

"Relax, they won't. That manifest says they're scheduled to be here tomorrow and we'll be long gone before that. It'll work," he said as he pushed the throttle forward and brought the _Destrier_, now broadcasting as the _Plympto's Honor_, out of the debris belt and started to head towards the station.

For the several minutes it took the _Destrier_ to fly towards the garrison and bring it into visible range, the four inside the cockpit, Geefive included, sat silent and barely moved as if the slightest movement might give away their ruse. Rika caught herself from jumping when the Communications Officer's voice came over their comm. system.

"We have you on our screens now, please identify," the voice said.

"Interesting that he's not a clone," Orena said to herself out loud. Randal picked up the wired headset and put it to his ear and spoke into the microphone.

"This is _Plympto's Honor_, requesting permission to dock for a pick up." Randal switched the headset's mic off and set it down. For a very quiet and tense couple of minutes, the comm. only gave back dead air.

"I don't think they're buying it," Rika said.

"Relax, it'll work." He then blinked a few times and then shrugged his shoulders. "But get ready to power up the rear deflector just in case." As if it were right on cue, the comm. came back to life.

"_Plympto's Honor_, you're not scheduled to arrive until tomorrow." Randal picked the headset back up and held it to his ear again.

"Yeah I know, but we're ahead of schedule. I didn't think you guys would mind that." Randal waited for the officer to respond, but it took him a moment before his voice came back.

"You have permission to land. The tractor beam will bring you into the designated docking bay." Randal put the headset back down again and smirked as he leaned back in his chair.

"See? I told you it'd work." Rika let out a breath the she didn't realize that she had been holding the entire time and shook her head. Orena turned to her station and started pouring over the scanners, looking for anything that they could provide that could help their mission later.

As the disguised _Destrier_ entered the defensive grid of the station, Orena noted that there were seven other batteries of turbolasers that were seemingly inactive, while the one that was active was tracking them as the tractor beam brought them in. Randal pointed to the active battery and Rika nodded her head. Orena noted to herself that there were no missile or torpedo tubes anywhere to be seen.

When the _Destrier_ entered the large docking bay portal and passed through the magnetic field, Orena made a special note of where the tractor beam emitter was located; just above the bay portal on the interior of the magnetic field.

The docking bay itself was a large one made for much larger vessels than the _Destrier_. In fact, the _Lion's Head_ would fit comfortably and with plenty more space to spare; she stored this info away for later. Randal shut the engines down and lowered the landing struts and then stood from his chair.

"Well, I guess we better act like a freighter crew." Rika and Orena stood up and started to head out of the cockpit, but Randal stopped when Geefive twittered a nervous series of beeps. He told Randal that he would rather stay with the ship and make sure that these Imperial bastards didn't damage his ship. Randal smirked at Geefive's possessive nature, and nodded his agreement before he headed out to meet the others. He found the two women standing near the holotable waiting for him.

"Oh," Randal said as he motioned towards Orena's lightsaber hanging on her right side. "You might not want to be seen with that. Kinda gives away the charade." Orena looked down to her belt and looked at the weapon as if it were the first time she saw it there. She had worn it there for so long that she always forgot that it was even there.

"Yes, I can see how that might prove a bit difficult to explain," she said as she unclipped it. Rika held her hand out and Orena handed it over. Rika went over to the bulkhead behind the acceleration couch and touched a panel on the wall that then opened to reveal a hidden storage space.

"Don't worry, it'll be safe here. I've got one of these in my cabin where I keep mine," Rika said as she stored the weapon in the spot and then sealed it up.

"Okay, well, let's go say hello then," Randal said as he started towards the entry ramp. As they stood there and waited for the ramp to lower, Rika suddenly felt that strange empty nexus in the Force centered on Orena that she had felt before back on Ascension Station. As the ramp continued to lower, she leaned close to Orena and inquired about this.

"What is that you're doing?" Orena looked over and gave her a quizzical look as if Rika were asking her how to breathe.

"You don't know?" Rika stared back blankly, and Orena had to blink a few times before she realized that Rika honestly didn't. "It's a masking technique, sort of like what we did when we were children and used to play hide and seek in the temple. My old Master taught it to me during the war, it's actually rather simple really..."

"I'm sure whatever you two are talking about is interesting and all, but they're starting to look at us," Randal spoke as he leaned his head back but didn't turn his head fully around. Instead, he was trying to give the gray uniformed officer that stood at the edge of the _Destrier_'s hull a smile. Both Rika and Orena stopped their conversation and smiled back, and followed Randal out of the ship and onto the black decking plates of the docking bay.

Randal briefly looked around and saw that at least one squad of stormtroopers were now standing on guard. Though they weren't pointing their weapons at them yet, they held their rifles at the ready. He pushed that thought aside and smiled widely as he offered his hand to the officer. The deck officer merely cocked an eyebrow at the offered hand and instead stayed at attention with his hands behind his back.

Randal withdrew his hand and then looked behind the deck officer and saw an older officer with more insignia tabs on his breast and could tell that he was likely the Governor by the way he carried himself. When the older officer approached, the deck officer saluted and stood aside.

"Are you the Captain of this vessel?" the older officer asked.

"Yes, I'm Captain Hannibal," Randal lied with a smile as he offered his hand. For a moment, he thought that this officer would be just like the last and refuse, but instead he smiled and took the proffered hand.

"It's rare to find one with initiative in the private sector. You should be commended for your punctuality. I'm Governor Talan, administrator of this installation and overseer of the Glythe Sector." Talan then looked up at the landing ramp and saw both Rika and Orena standing there. His old eyes seemed to light up and a rising smile crossed his lips. "And who might you be?"

Orena smiled back and briefly looked over at Rika, but Rika was looking back at her. When she turned back, she saw that Randal was looking at her too as if he were waiting for her to speak. It was then that she realized that the governor was speaking, and smiling, directly at her.

"I'm... Beka Thegus," she said as she tried to think of a name quickly and on the spot. Governor Talan walked past Randal and elegantly bowed and then took Orena's hand in his and kissed it.

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Beka Thegus. It is so rare for one so beautiful to visit this station, if you don't mind me being so bold." Orena smiled back but was at a complete loss for words.

"Umm, thank you," was all she could manage. Governor Talan released her hand and then motioned with his other for her to come with him.

"My crew will see to the loading of your vessel, but while they do that, I wonder if you would join me for a refreshment? Everyone's invited, of course," he added as an afterthought to both Randal and Rika. Orena's usual confident and commanding demeanor was completely shattered by the awkwardness of this situation, but Randal spoke up.

"Of course, we'd be happy to. Wouldn't we, Sis?" he said with a hidden look to Orena. She broke out of her dumbfounded state and nodded her head.

"Oh, yes, of course. Thank you." Governor Talan smiled widely and offered his arm, which Orena took lightly. As they walked past Randal, he gave Rika a look and tried to hide his smirk, but he found it difficult to do. As a joke, Randal offered his arm, and Rika rolled her eyes as she walked past him. He shrugged his shoulders and then followed the love struck Governor.

"As you can imagine," Talan said in his boisterous bravado that was purely all put on for Orena's sake, "being Governor of the Glythe Sector has a great deal of responsibility to it, you see. Though there isn't a major hyper-route that passes through, everything from as far as Dorin to Esfandia has to pass through this sector before connecting with the Hydian Way. That's why the Emperor had selected me personally to govern over this sector. He has a great deal of respect and admiration for me, you see."

"Oh yes, of course," Orena said with a forced smile in the Governor's direction. As Talan continued to prattle on about his rather dull and uninteresting duties, which of course he made sound as if they were of great import to the galaxy at large, he led the way to a turbolift and selected a level above the hangar deck. When the doors opened and the occupants exited, much to Randal's enjoyment since the small and confined space had filled with the Governor's unpleasant bad breath, Talan began to lead the way again down the corridor.

As they walked, and as the Governor continued to talk as if his jaw had come unhinged, they passed a transparasteel wall that revealed a smaller hangar below filled with Imperial starfighters.

"Those are V-Wings, right?" Randal asked as he nodded his head down towards the fighters. Talan briefly turned around to him and then nodded his head. He was about to continue on with whatever dreary subject he was focusing on before Randal's interruption, but once he noticed that Orena seemed interested in the fighters, he puffed his chest up with pride and unwittingly gave them the intel that they were searching for.

"Yes, the Alpha-3 Nimbus-Class Starfighter. Quite possibly the best starfighter Kuat Drive Yards has ever produced. If we had deployed these earlier in the war than we did, it would have ended much more quickly than it did, I should think. The Nimbus-Class makes up the bulk of our fighter corps now, and I have two full squadrons on site. At first we had trouble from pirate bands attacking our supply convoys, but once we deployed fighter escorts, well, the pirates thought better of attacking, I should say. Pirates, bah! Just one day away from the firing squad, I always say."

"Pirates? Sounds dangerous," Orena said as she turned back to the Governor. He smiled widely at her and then shook his head as he offered his arm again.

"I wouldn't fear, my dear. The forces I have stationed in this garrison do their best to make sure that no brigands operate within my jurisdiction. I take pride in that fact."

"Doing that must take a lot of troops," Rika commented with a slight smile in Randal's direction. She knew just as well as he did that they were playing him as easily as a Red Ball Nalargon.

"Oh it does, young lady. Overall, I have over five thousand troops under my command."

"That's a lot of troops to have stationed here," Orena said while giving Talan a light squeeze on his arm. The move made his face flush and he continued to talk when he more than likely shouldn't have.

"Oh no, my dear; though I have five thousand under my command, only about a hundred or so are ever on the station at any one time. No pirate is foolish enough to try and attack the garrison, so the station is used more as a rest and relaxation point, though the clones don't usually take to slacking off even when on R&R. Ah, here we are, my private lounge."

Governor Talan keyed in the code to open the door, and when it opened, it revealed a rather plush and decorated room with white rounded couches and several glass display cabinets lining the curved walls. As they walked in, and Talan gave a brief requests for refreshments to his protocol droid, he stood back and smiled widely with pride as the three guests walked around and admired his collection of rare and expensive antiquities.

Randal walked slowly, commenting to himself that some of the things the Governor had in his collection were both ancient and borderline junk. He admitted to himself that he didn't know the first thing about archeology, but as far as being aesthetically pleasing, these pieces certainly weren't that.

Rika stopped when she saw a rather old and yet pristine looking black dagger in one of the cases. "What's this? It just looks like a knife," she commented. Both Randal and Orena turned to see what she was pointing at, and Governor Talan smiled widely as he explained what the piece was.

"That is what is referred to as the Loag Dagger. It was used by an ancient cult of assassins in their ritualistic murders. Some would even say that the members of this assassin's guild were Force users. Hogwash, I say, but the dagger does have a certain macabre appeal, does it not? Ah, the refreshments are here."

As they broke away from the case and took their places on the couches, Orena reluctantly sitting next to the Governor, he continued to tell his own glorified story of how he rose to such prominence and came to the eye of the Emperor himself.

After what seemed an eternity, and much to the relief of everyone besides the Governor, he led them back to the main docking bay and the waiting _Destrier_.

"I wish you didn't have to leave so soon. I'm sure you'd find Imperial hospitality to be quite favorable, especially when escorted by one of the Emperor's Governors, no less."

"We'd love to, but we have a schedule to keep, you understand," Randal said as he shook the Governor's hand and gave his best fake smile. Rika nodded her farewell, choosing not to have to touch the repugnant old man, but Orena wasn't as fortunate.

"Well, my dear Beka Thegus, I hope your travels bring you back this way. And if they do, and I pray they will, please stop by for a longer visit, yes?" Orena grinded her teeth together with the force of a herd of banthas as she smiled and let the Governor kiss her hand farewell.

"Certainly, Governor. I'll make sure that my brother plans accordingly for it." Before the Governor continued, she turned and headed back up the ramp. Randal gave a final wave before he hit the controls to bring the ramp back up and headed towards the cockpit. When he entered the main cabin, Orena was all ready sitting on the acceleration couch and had her eyes closed and her brow narrowed. Rika leaned against the doorway and had her arms crossed as she watched the other Jedi.

"Can you believe that? Five million creds for an old knife? Who woulda thought someone would pay that much for some old relic. I've been in the wrong line of work all this time," Randal said as he shook his head in disbelief.

"That _relic_, as you put it, has a long and sordid past; one that shouldn't be taken lightly," Orena said tersely.

"All right, no offense meant," Randal said as he held his hands up defensively. "I guess I better get us on our way," he finished before he headed to the cockpit to take off. Silence, except for the sounds of the repulsor lifts and the engaging engines, filled the main cabin. Rika let another minute pass before she pushed off from the bulkhead and cleared her throat before she broke the silence.

"So," Rika began, "do you have a plan?"

"No, not yet," Orena said with a slight frown. "It's a lot to take in. I'll have to meditate on it and let the Force lay out the different paths we could take."

Rika nodded, but didn't continue the conversation. Many of the Jedi had the ability to meditate on the Force and let it provide guidance to them; many even allowed it to direct their actions as if it had taken over their bodies. But if that was an ability that all Jedi were supposed to have, Rika must have missed out on it. While Rika was able to meditate on the Force and provide her with a sense of calm, it never really did much more than that for her. She had once been told that she had the ability to sense Force echoes, a talent that was prized and used by those that would seek out Force sensitive's to be trained as future Jedi. But while she thought that she might be able to use this ability to find other Jedi that had escaped the Purge, it hadn't done much more than provide shaky or inconclusive clouds of haze that she couldn't sift through. In the temple, she was able to peer through the haze and isolate an individual's aura in the Force, but outside of it, she couldn't put the ability to much use. In a way, she envied Orena for her natural grasp of the Force and her mastery of so many skills that just seemed out of reach to her.

With a sigh, she left Orena as she meditated there on the couch with her back straight and her arms resting on the holotable. As Rika walked to the cockpit and her newfound home in the copilot's chair, she wondered in the back of her mind if she was better off now than she was in the Temple, but she didn't dare search for the answer to that question.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Apologies for the lateness of this update. Working retail can really throw off your sense of time. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it!

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Chapter 5 Doing What Must Be Done

Orena didn't even wait for the _Destrier_'s engines to be fully shut down before she lowered the entry ramp and walked briskly towards the turbolift. Randal quickly shut the systems down and motioned for Geefive to follow as he and Rika made their way off of the _Destrier_. As they tried to catch up with Orena, they could see her motioning towards her droid, Arby, and then pointed upwards towards the unseen command bridge.

They finally caught up with her at the entrance to the turbolift, and she held the lift doors open for them to enter. As the lift rose up, Randal raised his brow and looked up at the deck indicator.

"So you have a plan yet?" The sound of Orena pulling in a deep breath sounded louder than it should have in the confined space of the lift car. She let it out slowly as she shook her head.

"No, not yet. The Force was clouded; I wasn't able to see a particular path that was favorable."

"What does that mean?" Randal asked bluntly. Orena just lightly shook her head, but didn't offer an explanation.

"It means," Rika said in Orena's place, "that either the Force was clouded by the Dark Side, or it could have meant that there isn't a favorable outcome; at least from our point of view." Randal sighed, but didn't let his frustration get the better of him.

"Well, I'm used to doing things the old fashioned way, so why stop now, right?" As the lift doors opened, Orena briskly walked through the corridor and entered the conference room that they had been in before. Randal and Rika followed, while Orena went to a holoprojector terminal and motioned towards the uplink jack for Geefive to connect to. As she started to type quickly on the keypad, Randal took a seat in the chair he had sat in before, and Rika moved to the seat next to his, but didn't sit.

Trl Wann was the first one to come in, and he looked irritated to be away from his computer banks in the opposite room. Orena looked up and then motioned for Trl to take her spot at the terminal.

"Can you finish downloading the information from the station from this droid and then project it?" she asked. Trl let out an annoyed sounding sigh, but went to the terminal and began clicking away with a feverous speed. As Orena moved to her seat, the other commanders entered and took their seats. There was little small talk made; they all knew that Orena was about to explain what the Count wanted to hire them for.

"All right, everyone listen up. I've agreed to take the job from the Count, but it's not going to be an easy one. He wants us to retrieve an artifact, but that's only a very small part of it. To get to it, we're going to have to assault and infiltrate an Imperial garrison." She paused and looked around the room to make sure everyone knew the severity of this mission. The looks of shock mixed with a hint of fear let her know that they all understood.

"A garrison?" Allin Oannes said lightly as he sat back in his seat with his back straight.

"I guess our first major operation's going to be a baptism through fire," Marcus Fah said as he frowned and crossed his arms.

"So what's the plan?" Thol asked plainly. Orena raised her brow and then lightly shook her head.

"I don't have one yet. I thought that the Force would provide a clear path, but it hasn't. Since this concerns all of us, I wanted us to all see what we're going up against and come up with a plan together." Everyone nodded in agreement and Orena nodded to Trl. Trl clattered away on the keypad for a second, and a red holographic image of the station appeared and started to rotate slowly in a clockwise direction.

"The station's a KDY Impenetrable Class. Two kilometers long, one point five kilometers wide, and has twenty decks. This particular station has eight batteries of turbolasers, stationed along the length of the station here," Trl took the queue, and highlighted the batteries in bright blue. "Lucky for us, there's no missile or torpedo tubes to speak of. But, the station also houses two full squadrons of V-Wing starfighters, and has at least a hundred fully trained and armed stormtroopers." Orena paused again, and let the information sink in. As they all looked at the revolving hologram, Allin was the first to break his concentrated gaze and speak.

"So what's this artifact the Count wants? And where is it located exactly, or do we even know that?"

"The Count wants an artifact called the Loag Dagger; it's an old ceremonial weapon used by an order of assassins long extinct. And we do know exactly where it's located; in the Governor's private cabin here," she said as she motioned towards the upper portion of the station.

"How do you know that?" Marcus asked.

"We paid the dear Governor a visit," Randal said as he leaned back in his chair with a smug look on his face at the daring of his suggested and successful move.

"You did what? How can you be so moronic? Don't you know that all Jedi are fugitives of the Empire, and if they would have captured Orena, well, you'd have hell to pay!" Marcus said as he jumped up and yelled furiously at Randal. Randal rolled his eyes and leaned further back in his chair and let the pilot continue to fume.

"Calm down, Commander Fah. Sarn may have suggested it, but I agreed to the plan. And it worked, so there's no harm done," Orena said sternly to her subordinate, who shut up and sat back down, but continued to turn the color of deep crimson as he shot a menacing glare Randal's way.

"So," Thol said as he stroked the hair on his chin, "doing something like this is pretty dangerous. I think before we start planning something out, it might help if we knew how much he's willing to pay for this thing." Orena lightly smiled and nodded her head.

"Of course. The Count is willing to pay us five million credits for the dagger, and has all ready given us an advance of two million." Thol's hand stopped in mid motion and his eyes opened wide. Both Allin and Marcus shared a similar dumbfounded expression at the sum that they both had all ready, and the amount that they were going to be paid. Randal couldn't help but smile at the mentioning of the amount again, even though it was old news to him.

"Well, unless anyone here thinks it's not worth it, I think we can start coming up with a plan, right?" Rika said as she smiled. Randal pushed off from the back of his chair and lightly pointed at the hologram that was still rotating.

"I think it'd be easier if we work backwards and figure out every step as we go. Obviously, we're going to have to land a boarding party to fight their way to the Governor's cabin and get the dagger. So first question is, how're we going to get them in?"

"Since the ground troops are my area of expertise," Allin said, "I'll answer this one. Since there's anywhere up to a hundred stormtroopers in the station, I'm going to have to use every man at my disposal. So, from a logistical stand point, we're going to have to land in a big ship."

"The _Lion's Head_," Orena said as she nodded. "She's more than capable of getting into the same docking bay that we landed in, but getting her there is going to be the problem; and in fact, the one problem that I can't figure out."

"What's so hard about it? Just fly it in," Randal said as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Obviously you aren't paying any attention," Marcus said as he sneered at Randal. "The station has eight batteries of turbolasers. That's more than enough firepower to tear the _Lion's Head_ to shreds long before she reaches the docking bay."

"Okay," Rika said as she narrowed her brow as she concentrated and stared blankly at the hologram. "The turbolasers are going to have to be taken out first. Guns like those are made to fight capital ships, not fighters. We'll use our fighters to take out the guns and then the _Lion's Head_ can fly in."

"But then there's the enemy fighters; two squadrons worth," Orena said as she shook her head.

"I trust in my pilot's abilities, General. We'll get those guns taken out of commission," Marcus said with hard-headed pride.

"Yes, I'm sure your pilots are more than qualified, but its simple numbers. They outnumber us by a large margin," Orena said as she leaned her head back and let out an exhausted sigh. This was the problem that she kept having to face, and couldn't find an answer for.

"Outnumber us?" Randal asked with a cocked brow. "You only have one squadron?" Marcus looked away and refused to answer.

"Not exactly," Orena answered instead with a resigned tone to her voice.

"How many do you have? I thought I counted something like thirty Headhunters down there," Randal said incredulously.

"We may have the fighters, but we don't have the pilots. Right now we only have six counting Commander Fah," Orena said with crossed arms. "So now you see the dilemma I couldn't overcome."

"We can do it, I know we can," Marcus said as he beat his fist confidently on the holotable.

"Admirable, but foolish. You'd be outnumbered four to one; I doubt you'd even make it to the guns." Thol shook his heavy head and let out a resigned sigh.

"Randal can fly, and so can I," Rika said with a nod. Randal nodded at first, but then stopped and gave Rika a confused look.

"You can fly?"

"Of course, all Jedi were trained to be pilots." Randal shrugged his shoulders at this unknown fact about his partner and then turned back to the rest of the group.

"That's right, I'll take one of those Headhunters."

"I've seen Jedi in flight before, and while I'll gladly let her fly in my squadron, I can't say the same for you. What fighter experience do you have? A fighter is nothing like a freighter," Marcus said, daring Randal to get into another argument. Randal smirked, and took the bait.

"For four years I flew in the Judicial Starfighter Corps, piloting everything the Republic had; from Cloakshapes to a prototype Aethersprite that we ended up passing on. I've flown Headhunters on several different occasions, and quite possibly have more experience at getting shot at and surviving than any of your Naboo pilots have." Marcus was about to jump up from his chair and possibly lunge over the table to tackle the cockily smirking Randal, but Orena spoke loudly and not-so-gently pushed Marcus back into his seat with a nudge from the Force.

"Enough! We're all on the same team here. And while I'd be more than happy for the two of you to join the squadron, eight against twenty-four still isn't very smart odds."

"So we need more pilots," Rika said as she shrugged her shoulders. Orena raised her brow and closed her eyes as she let out a weary sigh.

"True, but recruits with piloting skills are hard to come by. Almost every recruit we have that comes in has an engineering or similar background."

"Well," Randal said with a shrug, "I guess that means if the pilots aren't coming to us, then we're going to have to go to the pilots."

"Ha, right. Like we wouldn't be noticed recruiting at an academy. There're Imperial recruiters and spies everywhere at those places," Marcus said without looking at Randal.

"There's other places to find pilots besides academies," Randal said plainly.

"Like where?" Orena asked, genuinely interested in the answer. Randal lightly shrugged and looked around the table. Everyone, except for Marcus, was looking at him waiting for the answer.

"There's a few places I know of where pilots go to get away from the authorities. If we go there, I'm sure we can find a few willing to join the fight against the Empire; maybe a few who'd work for free."

"Mercenaries? We don't need that sort of scum!" Marcus said angrily, finally looking at Randal and still sneering.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," Allin said with a resigned frown.

"Well, if anyone has a better suggestion, now's the time to say it," Rika said as she sat forward and looked around the table. Marcus seemed to be searching his mind for another solution, but couldn't come up with one. Orena let out a sigh and then nodded her head with a sense of finalization.

"All right then. Captain Sarn, can you take me to one of these places?"

"Sure. But I'd suggest taking the _Lion's Head_."

"Why's that?" Rika asked.

"Because the type of people that'll be there might be more inclined to listen to someone who shows up in a pirated military vessel." Rika gave Randal a confused sort of look, to which he shrugged and smirked back. "Hey, it couldn't hurt."

"All right then. Commander Oannes, start preparing your troops for a rapid insertion. Commander Fah, start prepping your pilots for the fight. Thol, get as many of the Headhunters as you can prepped and ready for the fight. I want everyone to be drilled on the upcoming mission to the point of nausea, so when the real thing happens, it'll all be second nature to them. Understood? Dismissed."

Everyone from the table gave an affirmative and stood from the chairs and started to leave. Randal gave Rika a look and then stood from his chair as well. As everyone left, Geefive disconnected from the uplink and twittered a series of whistles to Randal and Rika as they all left the conference room.

"Yeah, I agree with you buddy. They're all too stiff to be a bunch of mercenaries," Randal answered. Rika nodded in agreement.

"True, but give them some time. This mission will change them, I'm sure," she said reluctantly. Randal looked at Rika and knew what she meant. This mission was going to be dangerous, and it was likely that many of them might not make it through.

Randal and Rika returned to the _Destrier_ and packed a light travel bag each. Rika, who had few possessions beyond a few sets of clothes and her lightsaber, finished packing first and went to wait at the bottom of the entry ramp. Randal haphazardly threw a few items of clothing and a few extra charge packs for his blaster into a bag, then slung it over his shoulder and headed out from his cabin. Geefive whistled a question, asking if there was room for him on the trip.

"I don't see why not. The _Destrier_'ll be fine here; besides, it's a chance to get to look at another ship." Geefive twittered an excited series of tones and followed Randal to the ramp. As Randal walked down, he saw Rika staring off into the infinity as she leaned on one of the hydraulics for the ramp.

"A cred for your thoughts," he said as he set his bag down next to hers. She looked up with a rapid set of blinks as she came out of her reverie. Randal gave her a grin, and she lightly smiled back and nodded towards the crews that were busily working while Orena gave orders to different work groups.

"I was just thinking about what my Master used to say about the generation of Jedi that grew up during the war."

"What'd he say?" Randal said as he leaned against the opposite hydraulic.

"He said the Jedi that matured during the war were a different breed from the previous generations. He always told me that the older ones, like himself, were trained as peacekeepers. He called them the Old Guard. But the New Guard, as he called the younger ones like Orena, were becoming fighters; more at home leading armies on the battlefield than sitting at a negotiating table making peace. He told me the chosen weapon of his generation was the pen, while the younger was the lightsaber."

Randal nodded as he watched Orena continue to give orders in a manner that said she was right at home. He cocked an eyebrow and looked over at Rika.

"So what does that make you?" Rika lightly let out a fickle laugh and shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know. I was never comfortable leading men into battle, or trying to negotiate. I guess I'm neither," she said forlornly. Randal looked at her sideways and shook his head as he pushed off of the hydraulic and lightly touched her on her shoulder.

"If you ask me, you're a little of both. You're smart enough to not just rush into things, but you can inspire others to fight for what they believe in. Just look at what you accomplished on Dienzo III."

Rika lightly smiled and looked up into Randal's eyes. Though the roguish freighter jockey was usually pretty cocky and headstrong, she could see the sincerity in his eyes. The moment was short lived, though, when Orena called to both of them and motioned towards the _Lion's Head_.

Both Randal and Rika picked up their bags and headed towards the landing ramp where Orena was waiting. Geefive rolled ahead of them and entered the ship first, rotating his domed head around as he surveyed the ship and commented to himself about everything he saw. When the others entered the ship, Orena hit the switch to close the ramp and then pointed out the cabin where Randal and Rika could put their bags. After they did that, they met up with her in the cockpit. Randal looked around and lightly smirked at the familiar design of a Corellian ship, but when he saw the pilot, he cocked a brow.

"You let a droid fly the ship?" he asked incredulously. Arby, the military protocol droid of Orena's, looked over and made an imitation of a guttural sound that made him sound like he was offended.

"I can fly this ship rather well, thank you very much. Or perhaps you think mechanical precision and precise calculations are somehow inferior to your human errors and faults?" Randal gave a look of slight confusion before he let out a laugh.

"Well, you're certainly cocky enough to be a pilot, I'll give you that. Okay, tin-head, let's see what ya got."

Orena shared a look with Rika and wondered just what it was with pilots, whether they be organic or mechanical, that made them so stubborn. As Arby lifted the _Lion's Head_ off of the deck and backed the large frigate out of the docking bay, Geefive rolled in and let out a surprised series of whistles as he watched Arby flawlessly turn the ship around and plot a course for deep space. Randal rolled his eyes at the comments of his short friend and shook his head.

"I don't think he'd be interested in racing you in the _Destrier_, buddy. Besides, you'd beat him regardless." Arby lightly turned his head around and shot back.

"Name the time and place, and I'd beat you there every time." Geefive whistled a satisfactory sounding sentence and then turned and left. Orena had a look of confusion on her face, so Rika filled her in.

"Geefive like's Arby's spirit, but he says he'll beat him." Rika found it funny that when she had first met the little astro-droid, she thought it was weird to refer to him as a living person. But now, after spending two years travelling with him, she found it odd to think of him as anything but.

"So where we headed? Or am I just going to plot us a course straight into the nearest star for laughs?" Arby asked. Randal came up to the navicomputer and punched in a set of coordinates near the end of the Corellian Run. Arby looked at the coordinates, and then looked back up at Randal. "Ah, and here I was thinking we were going someplace far," he said sarcastically as he reached for the hyperdrive lever. Randal laughed to himself at the odd nature of the droid and turned to head back to his assigned cabin.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Smuggler's Run

_Smuggler's Run, Wild Space_

Randal let out a yawn as he stretched his arms above him and switched his kicked up feet and closed his eyes again to go back to sleep. Rika briefly looked over at her partner, who was lounging back in a high backed standard desk chair with his feet propped up on the desk, and shook her head before she turned back to her own desk.

The trip was taking them some time; after all, their destination was clear on the opposite side of the galaxy. Arby had plotted the quickest route along the Corellian Run, with only slight detours to avoid any Imperial check-in stations. But even with all this, it was still a long trip. To kill time, Rika took the opportunity to fully disassemble her lightsaber for a detailed cleaning. It had been a long time since the last time she did it, in fact, she had only done it once before during the war.

Her original lightsaber that was given to her when she was still a youngling was long gone; replaced by the saber she constructed as one of the tests a Padawan went through. Normally, there was much formality to the first saber construction, but due to the eruption of the Clone Wars, the process was streamlined for quicker results. Most of the components she selected from the Jedi workshop were modular; the workshop kept a stockpile of parts for the Jedi to construct lightsabers. In fact, her Master used to joke that certain Jedi kept losing their sabers during their missions and were frequent visitors to the shop.

Some of her fellow Padawan's took a deep interest in the design of their sabers; using the shop's machining lathe's and intricate tools to fully customize their sabers to their personalities. Orena's was a good example. Her's was engraved with intricate designs from her Chandrilan heritage.

But when Rika made her's, she couldn't think of any sort of fancy designs or intricate inlays that she liked. So instead, she just went with a standard Soresu style of a thick body that tapered to a thin focusing chamber and then expanded back out for the emitter.

As she tightened the last of the hex screws that held the service panel that revealed the crystal chamber, Randal opened his eyes and sat up as if he were answering some unseen call. Geefive also seemed to notice whatever it was, but Rika had no idea as to what picked their attention.

"We've come out of hyperspace. Must be there," Randal said as he took his boots off of the desk and stood from his chair. Geefive beeped his agreement, and Rika quickly gave her lightsaber a once over and hooked it back on her belt before she stood up and followed them to the cockpit.

In the cockpit, Orena was standing with her arms crossed as she looked out of the viewport. Arby moved his head with the sounds of servos as he looked over the sensor readings and then shook his head.

"Impossible. There's no way to successfully plot a course through this." Rika peered around Orena and saw what Arby meant. In front of the _Lion's Head_ lay a large and seemingly unending asteroid field. Though she wasn't as seasoned a pilot as Randal was, she knew it was quite hazardous to one's health to try and navigate through an asteroid field. But if Randal shared her belief, he didn't show it.

"What do you mean, impossible?" he said with a grin as he leaned against the port side bulkhead.

"By impossible, I mean that there are far too many erratic variables to take into account to successfully navigate this asteroid field. It will take some time to plot a course around the field," the droid said as he reached over for the navicomputer.

"We're not going to someplace on the other side of the field. Our destination is _in_ the field."

"Impossible. To suggest that there's a viable destination within the field would suggest that there is a populated settlement inside the field, which would require a high number of successful navigations into and back out of the field. And since the odds of accomplishing that only once are 3,720 to 1, I find it highly dubious."

"Maybe for a droid trying to plot a course through there, but not for a skilled pilot," Randal said as he shook his head and pushed off from the bulkhead.

"Being suicidal is not a skill," Arby said as he turned back to the controls.

"All right," Orena said with a shake of her head and a sigh. If she didn't interrupt the two, they might argue for the rest of eternity. "We've come this far, Randal, can you fly us to this port or not?"

"I can do it. It's been a long time since I've flown anything this big, but I can get us there, no prob." Orena motioned for Arby to get up and let Randal take his seat. As Randal passed Arby, the protocol droid gave him a look that would have showed his discontent if his metallic face were able to do so.

Randal pushed his back into the seat and bounced slightly as he looked over the controls before putting his hands on the control yoke. Instinctively, Rika sat down in the copilot's seat to Randal's right and gave him a not so sure look. He caught the look, and shrugged his shoulders as he smirked back.

"I'm a little rusty with these _Consular_ Classes, but it's like riding a swoop. Well, here we go," he said as he reached over and pushed the throttle forward. The _Lion's Head_ roared forward in response, which garnered a grin from Randal. "She's got more pep than the old birds I remember."

Randal continued to push the throttle forward until there was no more room to go. The _Lion's Head_'s engines howled menacingly as she continued to gain speed and passed the first of the asteroids. Randal smoothly banked and pulled the ship around one of the larger ones, and as he leveled her course, he slightly moved his head towards Rika and told her to turn the deflectors up to full.

Silently, he continued to navigate the much larger ship effortlessly through the range of near unpredictable obstructions and at a speed that made Arby's logic sensors nearly shut down when he tried to follow Randal's moves. Rika stared wide eyed out of the viewport but she didn't have to express her fear of what might happen if Randal misguessed their proximity to one of the asteroids. She knew full well that Orena could sense it; after all, she could feel the same from her.

The _Lion's Head_ rolled completely around what appeared to be the wreck of an old mine freighter and raced towards one of the larger asteroids. As they neared it, Randal leveled out the _Lion's Head_ and pulled back on the throttle. Rika let out a lung full of air and released the pressure she had unknowingly had on her clinched jaw. She briefly looked around at the space around them and turned to Randal with a questioning look. He didn't have to wait for her to ask what was on her mind. Instead he provided her with the answer.

"There's no asteroids around the bigger one; they've been cleared out long time ago. The station uses repulsors to keep any away that might drift in. You can relax, too, General," he said in a mild mocking tone over his shoulder. If Orena caught the remark, she didn't let on. Instead, her attention was now focused on the large asteroid that Randal had referred to as a station. It didn't take long for her to understand why.

As they neared, the large unnatural metallic structures that rose up from the asteroid's surface came into view. In fact, nearly the entirety of the surface was covered with tall outreaching structures. When they got even closer, many of those structures revealed a multitude of viewports and magnetically sealed docking bays. There were even a myriad of larger vessels docked alongside some of the towers, connected with heavy durasteel docking tubes nearly the size of ships themselves.

While Rika and Orena marveled at the site, Randal searched both visually and with the scanners to find a docking bay that wasn't taken; or at least registered to one of the many different pirate bands that used this safe haven for resupply and recruitment. When he found one that was suitable for their needs, he banked to port and slowed the ship down, engaged the repulsorlifts, and set the _Lion's Head_ down.

With a wide smirk, he stood from the seat and shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing to it, Tin-head." As he started to leave the cockpit, Orena narrowed her brow and shook her head in confusion.

"Wait, there's no docking officer or traffic control droid?" Randal paused and turned back around and laughed.

"This is Skip One, General. Home and safe haven for all sorts of miscreants and un-law abiding citizens of the galaxy. There's no more order here than there would be in a black hole. So keep your eyes open, but try not to come across as a tourist."

Orena let out a sigh and then nodded her head. She motioned for Arby to stay in the cockpit and followed after Randal and Rika, who were joined by Geefive as they headed towards the entry ramp.

As the party waited for the ramp to fully lower, Rika wondered what they would find. In her travels with Randal, they had seen a few unsavory places. But this place, Smuggler's Run as Randal referred to it, was one that Randal often said made every other place seem like a tame children's amusement park by comparison. She had just taken him at his word and left it at that, but now, she was going to find out for sure.

When the ramp finally set down on the deck plate, Randal led the group into the hangar bay. The first thing that Rika noticed was the strongly offensive odor. It smelled like a foul mix of grease and bile from at least a few dozen species. The deck plating was blackened with years of use without maintenance, and the hangar's walls were much the same. Exposed wiring was everywhere, with sparks occasionally flying out in random directions. It was a miracle, she thought, that the magnetic fields actually were able to hold the vacuum of space out.

When they reached the sealed blast doors, Randal hit a stubbornly frozen button several times before it lit up and the doors opened. As they opened, the true unsavory nature of the station spilled out.

The blast doors opened up to a large open area with building fronts lining the outer walls and a once working now defunct fountain in the center of the courtyard. Loud ruckus noise poured forth from every direction, with beings as diverse as there were stars in the galaxy arguing or celebrating over anything and everything. Many, if not all of them, carried large tankards filled with fluids that appeared as thick and as dangerous as hyperdrive lubricant well past its prime. Drunks were stumbling around the edges of the area, singing unknown tunes out loud as they tried to remember the words, if they ever even existed in the first place. In one of the building fronts were several overly dressed females of at least a dozen species motioning and calling out to the drunken men to come over and spend some of their hard earned credits. All of this savagery was highlighted by the random and seemingly uncaring blaster fire that erupted nearly every second, most of the time aimed haphazardly into the air, other times directed at a would-be offender.

As Rika stared in shock at all of this, Orena made an expression that showed her revulsion at the decadence around her. Randal, on the other hand, smiled widely and nodded as he looked around.

"You know, this place is about the one constant in the entire galaxy. No matter what else happens, this place is always the same."

"Perhaps not if the Empire reaches this far," Orena said as she tried not to open her mouth too wide or breath in any of the disease-ridden air.

"I doubt the Empire would ever try to come out here. Even if they did, they'd only find an empty station. Come on, there's a bar over here where we might find some recruits." Randal and Geefive took off down one of the large corridors that fed off of the large courtyard area and turned into a large and heavily populated cantina. Inside the bar, the denizens were quieter than those out in the courtyard area. Many were playing different gambling games or listening to the Bith band playing on the small stage.

Geefive rolled towards an open table in front of the band and whistled loudly to draw the attention of the others. Randal followed, and then ordered a tankard of Corellian rum and then motioned to both Rika and Orena. Rika instinctively ordered a Rylothian Sunrise, a drink she had come to enjoy while posing as a smuggler with Randal in bars and cantinas across the Corporate Sector in their two year exile. Orena, however, simply made a disgusted face and said she wouldn't have anything. The waitress looked at her funny, but said nothing as she turned to get the ordered drinks from the bar.

As Randal leaned back and looked around the place, Orena sat with her back straight, as if she only wanted to touch as much of the seat as absolutely necessary. When the drinks were brought and the waitress left, she let out a sigh and looked at Randal.

"So where are these pilots you spoke of?"

"They're all around us," Randal said with a brief movement of his tankard before he took a drink. Orena looked around at the drunken crowd and then shook her head again.

"I don't see how any of these people can be skilled pilots."

"They're all skilled pilots; it's just that they're not flying right now, right?"

"We don't have time for this, Captain. How do you suggest we go about recruiting them? Going table to table and buying them a drink?"

"That might work," Randal said with a shrug. Just then the band stopped playing and said they were going on break and left the stage. Randal then smirked and stood up from his chair. "But this'll be faster." Randal stepped up onto the stage and tapped the microphone before he talked into it. At first, the bartender looked as if he were going to send one of his bouncers to kick him off the stage before he made a drunken fool of himself, but once he heard what he had to say, he let him continue. After all, recruitment happened nearly every day.

"I wonder if anyone in here can settle an argument I'm having here with my companions. They want to know who the best damn pilot in this joint is." To this, nearly everyone in the bar roared as they held their tankards up high and said that they were the best. After the noise died down, Randal continued. "Well, not that I'm not the trusting type, but I'd be a fool if I just took your words for it. Why don't you put your credits where your mouth is and join our crew?"

To this, many of the pilots laughed and waved their hands as if they were signaling that they were done listening. A few of them still seemed interested, but didn't volunteer just yet. Randal could see this, so he continued.

"I can't tell you much, of course, but I can tell you this. You'd be flying in provided fighters and you'd be paid handsomely for your time." At this, Orena gave Randal a look, but he merely just winked and continued on. Someone in the crowd stood up and yelled a question back at Randal.

"Who'd we be flyin' up against? Merchants? Hutts?"

"No," Randal said while smirking, but knowing full well that this could either make or break the deal for many of them. "Someone substantially more equipped, and worth more than your typical crime lord."

"Who? The Empire?" someone else shouted with a laugh. The crowd joined in on the joke, but once they noticed that Randal didn't join in, the laughter died out.

"You're a damned fool if you think you can take on the Empire and live to tell about it!" another shouted before Randal lost everyone's attention.

"Well, I might be a fool, but I'm not one to step down from a good fight," Randal said loudly with a smirk. Some of the drunks laughed heartily and held their tankards up in agreement, but others just shook their heads and went back to their conversations. Randal opened his mouth to continue, but an annoyed patron pulled out his blaster and leveled it at Randal from the far side of the room and pulled the trigger. Randal didn't see the shot coming, and neither did Orena; she felt it.

With a quick motion, the green blade of her lightsaber sprang to action and deflected the bolt into the ceiling. Everyone in the bar was now dead silent; all's attention now on the small framed blonde woman holding the humming green blade. Slowly, she stood out of her battle stance but didn't deactivate the blade. With an easy jump, she got on the bar and took the microphone away from Randal.

"You say it's impossible to take on the Empire and live? Look at me. I've done exactly that for the past two years, and I'm still doing it. Now, I need pilots to fly my fighters against the Empire. My associate here says that some of the best pilots can be found on this wretched festering station, so here I am. Is there no one here who has the courage to stand up and take on the impossible odds? To do what's right? The Empire's taken away so much from the people of this galaxy and it's time we took it back. Who's with me?"

For a long silent moment, everyone slowly looked at each other and back to Orena. For a moment, she could feel the emotions flowing through the crowd as they weighed their morals against their thoughts on the matter, but then the crowd simply burst out into raucous laughter as they all turned back to their drinks and games as if nothing had ever happened. Orena frowned and shook her head in disgust at the lack of responsibility and deactivated her blade before she jumped off of the stage.

Orena flung herself down into her chair and crossed her arms in an annoyed manner as she shook her head. Randal sighed as he sat back in his seat and pulled his tankard to him. He looked up at Rika, who was giving him a light smile as if to tell him it wasn't his fault that this crowd simply didn't care about right and wrong. Randal nodded back, and was about to apologize to Orena for wasting her time when a small sounding voice cleared its throat. The three looked up towards the sound and saw a young Mon Calamari male standing there rubbing his hands together nervously.

"Uhm, I'd get to fight the Empire if I joined up with you?" he asked.

"That's right," Orena said with a nod. The Mon Cal smiled and lifted his head and then nodded firmly.

"Good. I want some payback for what they did to my homeworld."

"Can you fly?" Randal asked.

"Of course. I'm pretty good, if I don't say so myself."

"Welcome aboard then," Rika said with a smile. "What's your name?"

"Siiwook Forto, ma'am."

"It's good to have you aboard then, Siiwook," Orena said as she motioned for a chair. "Take a seat and have a drink." As if the offered free drink was like the promise of pay in advance, several other patrons in the bar seemed to take notice. Two of them were Sullustans, who kept shoving the other out of the way as they made their way to the table.

"So let me get this straight. We join you, we fight the Empire. But what else is in it? Honor and glory might be good for some, but what other sort of compensation are we talking here?" one of the two said. Before anyone could answer, the other pushed the first aside and lightly bowed.

"You'll have to excuse my twin brother, he's a bit credit-minded. You said earlier that our fighters would be provided. What type of fighters do you have?"

"Headhunters," Randal said with a smirk. The first made a short laughing sound and rubbed his hands together and then showed his palms as if he were wiping his hands of some unseen substance. He then turned to leave, but his brother stayed.

"Ah, Headhunters. My brother prefers something faster, but the Headhunter is a solid fighter, no question about that. Okay, I'll join. I'm Ouor Charr." His twin brother stopped abruptly and then ran back to the table.

"Oh no! If you think you're going to go join some outfit and fly up against Imperial pilots and take all the glory for yourself, then you've got another thing coming! Where do I sign? The name's Lor Charr; obviously I'm the smarter and more ruggedly handsome of the two." Before anyone could welcome them to the team, the two brothers started to argue and fight amongst themselves.

For the next hour, more pilots came over to their table and joined up for different reasons. When Orena felt that she had enough pilots, and had her fill of the unsavory cantina, she motioned for the group to follow and led the way back to the docking bay. When the doors opened and revealed the _Lion's Head_, a few of the newly recruited pilots stopped and looked the large vessel over.

"Whew, I've never been this close to a frigate without it shooting back," a human named Zak Vass said. "Just how big of an operation you got?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Orena said curtly as she continued on her way to the waiting entry ramp. As the group walked up the ramp and entered the ship, Randal couldn't help but hide his grin as he motioned towards the multiple cabins and told the pilots to make themselves at home.

In the cockpit, he found Orena sitting at the communications terminal with a headset on her head. As he moved to the pilot's chair, she took the headset off, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms.

"I hope these pilots were worth the trouble. Eight extra pilots, though, still doesn't give us the best of odds."

"Well, if they're anything like Randal," Rika said as she sat in the co-pilot's chair, "they'll more than make up the difference."

"Rika, I'm touched," Randal said with a smirk as he brought the massive engines online. Rika raised her brows and shook her head before she turned around the Orena.

"But, they'll definitely prove to be a pain in the rear, just like Randal," she added with a friendly grin. Randal feigned injury and grabbed his chest in a joking manner.

"I take it back." With an easy pulse of the repulsorlifts, the _Lion's Head_ lifted off of the decking plate, and blasted out into space.

* * *

A/N: Hello! I wanted to put a quick note in concerning Rika's lightsaber. I made the comments about the modular parts based on the idea that there were standardized looks for the lightsabers depending on the fighting style of the user. Basically, that idea came about due to General Grevious having lightsabers that looked both like Obi-Wan's and Anakin's. So basically, her lightsaber is reminiscent of Obi-Wan's, but slightly different.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This is sort of a long chapter, and while I originally wrote it as two separate ones, I decided to combine them since they dealt with the same stuff. Happy reading!

* * *

Chapter 7 The A-Team

_Jomoire, Outer Rim_

The _Lion's Head_ exited hyperspace and flew through the ship graveyard with expert mechanical precision; Arby was once again at the helm of what he referred to as "his" ship. The viewports on the ship were limited, but the few that it had were crowded with the faces of the newly recruited pilots as they looked out at the expanse of the large military vessels that they had so far done their best to avoid. As the ship entered the atmosphere and then entered the landing bay of the core ship _Herald_, the pilots whistled and nodded their heads in enthusiasm; clearly their new employer was well financed. Or at least had enough materiel at her disposal to bring them a king's ransom in Imperial goods.

Once the _Lion's Head_ set down and finished its landing cycle, Orena met the group at the entry ramp and told them all to follow her. As they walked down the ramp and onto the decking plates, the pilots all looked around with wide eyes as they continued to walk with their personal bags hefted on their shoulders.

"This is the _Herald_, our base of operations. She's not yet flyable, but she will be shortly. Until then, we have to keep her location a close guarded secret. As you are all pilots, I'm sure you can figure out eventually where we are in the galaxy, but the only interested party would be the Empire. And after our first intended raid, I think it would be a safe bet that you'd be just as much as a wanted fugitive as I am."

To this, several of the pilots laughed and enjoyed the idea of becoming notorious; after all, that was the only reason that some of them joined. Others, like Forto, merely blinked and swallowed at the frightful notion. Orena watched the reactions from her pilots, and smiled slightly as she saw, and more importantly felt, that all of them weren't going to inform the Imperials about her operation. She was rather glad of this, because if she saw that one wasn't going to be loyal at this point, she really didn't know if she could do what she knew would have to be done. Choosing not to dwell on that dire subject any longer, she turned and motioned for them to follow.

As the group walked through the hangar bay, one of the Sullustan brothers pointed to the _Destrier_ and whistled in admiration. "Is that yours?"

"Yup, that's the _Destrier_ all right. Maybe you've heard of it?" Randal said. Rika was about to laugh, since ever time Randal said that, the only response he got was a dumbfounded no; but this time, she was surprised.

"Yea, I've heard of it. You ran a Separatist blockade on Ryloth early in the war, right?" Vass asked as he turned around.

"Yea that was me. Took a load of guns in to some underground rebels. Heard they put 'em to good use," Randal said with a smirk. Rika looked at Randal and shook her head lightly in surprise.

"I never knew you were involved in the war. How come you never said anything?" she asked. Randal shrugged and shook his head.

"Well, you never asked." As Orena continued to lead the group, the pilots all started to circle Randal and started talking about different runs they had all made. Rika wasn't sure how she could tell, but part of her knew that the recruited pilots now respected Randal as one of their own, and not just some other employee of their new boss. Hopefully, that could turn into the near unbreakable loyalty that Randal and Rika shared.

"All right," Orena said as she stopped and turned back around to the group. "This is Commander Fah, leader of the starfighter division. I'll leave you with him. Commander," she said with a nod before she turned and headed off to the nearest turbolift. Commander Fah nodded back to his superior and then turned to face the new recruits, all the while standing with his back straight and his hands behind his back. He looked them all over briefly, and the ever-so slight sneer on his face showed his level of distaste for them.

"All right, listen up! The General may accept you in her outfit, but I don't; at least not until you show me that you can behave yourselves with proper military discipline in my outfit, is that understood?" He looked around the group of pilots, and while they all didn't say anything, he could tell by their level of undisciplined reaction that he was going to have trouble with this lot.

"Let's get one thing straight right now. You are now part of this military group, and as such, will hold the rank appropriate to your level. As far as I'm concerned, you are all now Lieutenants. I don't care what rank you think you have, or whatever rank you may have called yourself in the past. From here on out, you are only to call yourselves your given rank. Is that understood?" As Fah looked around the group, his gaze fell on Rika, and he lightly smiled and bowed his head slightly in her direction. "Grand Army of the Republic ranking still holds, of course, General."

"Commander, actually," Rika corrected. All of the pilots, except Randal of course, all looked at the young Twi'lek with shock and surprise. Not only was this outfit led by a young Jedi General, but there was another in the group as well?

Fah lightly nodded, and then stepped back and motioned towards the secondary bay where the fighters were held. "If you will all follow Lieutenant Sarn, he will lead you to your fighters."

"It's _Captain_, actually," Sarn said defiantly. Commander Fah's face turned red and it looked as if he were finally going to settle this dispute with Randal once and for all, the old fashioned way. But before either one of them moved, Rika stepped between them and held both of her hands up.

"Commander, I think it's perfectly permissible that Randal keeps his Captain rank. After all, it was awarded during his service with the Judicial Starfighter Corps, and if my rank from the GAR still stands, it only stands for reason that his would as well. And besides, a Commander still outranks a Captain." Fah seemed to think about it for a moment, and then nodded without saying anything.

Rika turned to Randal and gave him slight wink before she motioned for him to lead the way.

"Captain." Randal nodded his thanks, and then bowed his head jokingly to her.

"Commander." He then turned to Commander Fah and only slightly nodded his head. "Fah. Everyone else, follow me."

As the group started to get out of earshot of Commander Fah, they all started to smile and laugh at the Commander's expense. They stopped short, though, when Rika turned to them and gave them a stern look. Randal led the group to the center of the fighter bay, where all of the Headhunters were lined against both the inner and outer bulkheads.

"All right, these are our birds. If any of you haven't flown in a Headhunter before, just know that they're tough as nails and give back just as much as they can take, but they're not a flying miracle with wings. Make one mistake, and it'll be your last. If there's no questions, we'll get the deck officer over and assign us each a fighter."

As the young deck officer came over and wrote a pilot's name next to each of the fighters, they split up and went to go inspect their own ships. After only a moment, one of the brothers made a shriek and stepped away from his fighter, shaking his head as he mumbled quickly in his native tongue. Eventually, he started turning circles rapidly and then spat on the deck.

"What's he doing that for?" Rika asked. Randal shrugged and went to him, along with the rest of the group. When they all circled around the Sullustan, he merely shook his head and refused to get near any of the fighters. It was his brother, Ouor, that explained.

"My brother's quite superstitious. You see, he says its bad luck to fly in a squadron where all the fighter's are painted different colors. I agree, but I'm not as superstitious as this idiot."

"Who you calling an idiot, you moron?" Before the brothers could erupt into a fight, several of the other pilots agreed that it was bad luck. Randal eventually got everyone to calm down and then called over to Commander Fah.

"What is it, Sarn?" he said annoyingly.

"Several of the men think it's superstitious to fly in a squad with random colors. They want to have all the fighters painted the same."

"Well, not exactly all the same, but at least all in a common color besides the base coat," Lor said. Randal looked to Fah and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, how about it?"

"They could be bloody pink for all I care. If it means they'll fly, then pick whatever color you want. The service droids can spray all the ships." Fah then didn't stick around for the rest of the conversation, and instead went back over to the side of the fighter bay where his five other pilots were standing around the nose of one of the fighters.

"What was that all about?" an auburn haired female pilot named Rhyssa Glopio asked.

"Some silly pirate superstition. They think all the fighters need to be the same color or its bad luck. Nerf wash, I say. But if it gets them in the cockpit, so be it. Frankly, I still don't see the need for those dregs, but if it makes the General happy, then so be it. At least they'll keep the fighters off of our backs long enough to take out those guns."

"I don't know, maybe some uniformity would be nice instead of these old random pirate colors," Rhyssa said as she looked the nearest fighter over. Besides the basic hull white, it was emblazoned with a seemingly random series of multicolored geometric shapes that must have been pleasing to the painter's eye at the time. "And I think you need to be less harsh on them. If they didn't want to fight the Empire, they wouldn't be here. No amount of promised credits would make someone want to take them on unless they wanted to do it deep down." Commander Fah raised an eyebrow and gave a look to his subordinate, who then quickly caught her place and straightened her back. "Ah, if you catch my meaning, Commander."

"Duly noted."

Back with the group of new recruits, the pilots were all discussing what color it would be. It seemed as if everyone wanted one color or another, even some being in a spectrum that most species couldn't even see. Eventually, Forto looked to Randal and asked what color he thought they should use. Everyone got quiet and looked to the Captain for his answer. He shrugged and looked around, and then saw that Rika too was waiting for him.

"Well, how about blue? I've always liked it," he said with a smirk. Rika lightly tilted her head in confusion to his last sentence, but it seemed that while she didn't understand, the others did.

"Ah, yeah, blue's a nice color."

"Aye, it is! Blue it'll be!" The group then split back up and went back to their assigned fighters, with Rika following Randal to his.

"So we're going to have blue ships? I guess I'll just blend right in," she said jokingly. Randal laughed along, and then peered up and over the edge of the cockpit and looked down at the controls.

"It's been a long time since I've been in one of these. A lot smaller than I remember," he commented.

"You think this is small, try fitting into an Actis-Class. Now that was small." Randal nodded, but didn't seem to be paying attention.

"You know, there's about a hundred different ways to squeeze more performance out of these birds. Just adjust the regulators on this power generator and you can get stronger shields or more powerful shots. Hell, if you install a power regulator, you could even get both or even more." Geefive, who was inspecting the tail section of Randal's fighter, rolled up to the two and whistled an excited response.

"Really? Must be our lucky day," Randal said. Rika didn't catch what the little droid had said, so she turned to Randal for the explanation. "Remember that cargo we picked up while pretending to be that other ship? It was a crate full of power regulators. We could put those to good use." Geefive whistled with enthusiasm and then went to get a lifter droid to bring the crate over. As they waited, Randal went over to Rika's fighter and gave it a look over.

"Should be good. I guess it's up to you where you want the extra juice to go."

"I guess the shields. I doubt these "birds," as you put it, are as maneuverable as the fighters I used to fly."

"Yea, not so much. Those Delta-7's were wicked little devils from what I remember. Geefive can help install the parts and calibrate the generators to give more power to the shields."

"What about you? Let me guess: whatever can make a bigger bang, right?" she asked jokingly.

"You know me too well, Sweetheart. Deck Officer! Those fighters over there," Randal said as he pointed to the half dozen other fighters that were sitting at the far end of the fighter bay, and which were visibly worse off than the others. "What are they for?"

"Oh those?" the young officer said as he adjusted his glasses on his face. "Those are parts vehicles. Too far gone to make flyable, but they have enough parts to keep these in running condition."

"What about their cannons?"

* * *

Rika lowered the generator cover on her Headhunter and tightened down the last of the fasteners with her hydrospanner and then jumped down from the wing. As she stood back and looked at the sleek little craft, she smiled and nodded her thanks to Geefive, who was finishing up his paint job that he had been applying to her fighter. He rolled over to her and faced the fighter as well, and gave a satisfied whistle at his work.

"Looks great! You did a great job, Geefive," she said as she patted his durasteel dome. From behind her, she heard the sound of a heavy tool hitting the decking plate, and a familiar string of Corellian curses. Without turning to look, she gave Geefive a knowing look and motioned towards the still cursing pilot. "Go ahead; I think he needs help with those guns." Geefive started to roll away, and twittered a comment to her as he went. From what she could tell, the droid told her it wasn't just the guns he needed help with.

Rika pulled a somewhat clean rag out of her back pocket and wiped the grease off of her hands as she looked around and surveyed the hangar bay. All around her, every other pilot was either tweaking whatever system they thought needed to be tweaked, or was arguing with the droid painting crew about how they wanted their fighters to look. Randal had waited to paint his fighter, and instead was busy mounting two extra KX5's on the underside of the wings below the standard two guns. When Geefive reached him, Randal pointed to a power socket that was out of Rika's view and continued to fight with the stubborn tools.

Rika wasn't much of a mechanic herself, in fact, the majority of what she knew she learned in the two years while traveling with Randal and Geefive. Some Jedi had a penchant for mechanics, but Rika wasn't really one of them. As she finished wiping her hands, she couldn't help but feel a little out of place among all the fighter jockeys, so she left the hangar and went to find Orena.

She found her on the officer barracks deck in her private cabin, meditating on the Force. She didn't have to knock or open the door to know what the other was doing, and was about to turn to leave her in peace when the door opened. Orena stood from her sitting position and motioned for Rika to come in.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," Rika said as she came in. Orena smiled back, but it seemed a bit hollow.

"I was trying again to see if the Force would lend us any guidance on this mission, but again it seems to be alluding me. I thought that maybe with the addition of the extra pilots it might show us something, but I was wrong. How about the pilots? Are they getting along?" Orena asked as she changed the subject and motioned towards a small and humble couch.

"For the most part. I don't think many of them are used to the structure of serving in a military outfit, and Fah's attitude doesn't help much." Orena smiled slightly to herself and then cocked an eyebrow.

"And what about Sarn's? I'm sure he's not making any compromises with his own beliefs concerning Commander Fah."

"Well," Rika said with a shrug. She could see that Orena was pointing out her own biased opinion on the matter and would continue to push it until she conceded. "Tension exists there, but I think I can keep them working together. Fah respects me as a Jedi, and even gave me the rank of General. Of course I corrected him on that. But, I did use what little my supposed rank has and got him to concede to letting Randal keep his Captain's rank."

"Well, while that might have settled Randal down, what does it do to the others? Will they be more inclined to follow Fah's orders now, or will they question him more? These things have to be considered, you know."

"I didn't think of that," Rika said with a frown. "I guess that's why I was never cut out for command." Orena smiled at her old childhood friend and then stood and walked to a viewport that looked out at the flat expanse beyond the _Herald_.

"Not every Jedi was made for leading troops into battle. In fact, I'd say only a small handful were any good at it, and even less might have enjoyed it. I myself am not really sure if I found it to be enjoyable, what with all the loss of life, but I can't think of any other word to describe it. But somehow in all the confusion of battle, I found some level of calm. To be honest, it frightened me at times." Orena turned from the window and shrugged as she leaned against the transparasteel and looked back at Rika.

"Whatever our real talents were, the War made us abandon them and nurture other skills. Whether that was for good or bad, only the Force can tell; but we survived, and that was the will of the Force. I believe that the Force wants us to continue to use those skills and bring peace back to the galaxy."

"At what cost?" Rika asked solemnly. "I don't just mean this mission, but for any in the future. We attack a garrison, they bombard a planet. We attack a convoy, they enslave an entire race. Where does it end?"

Orena took in a slow breath and nodded her head as she went back and sat on the couch next to Rika.

"I've thought the same thing since finding this ship and coming up with the idea for this outfit. I know that there'll be retaliations for our actions, and I can't even begin to guess how horrible they'll be. The only hope that I can still cling to, is that for every life the Empire takes, a dozen more will rise up and stand for what they believe in. Remember, my goal is not to take the Empire out by force, but by convincing its people that it's not needed. If no one will follow it, then it will crumble, and peace can be restored."

"I hope that comes sooner rather than later," Rika said with a faint hint of her own version of Randal's smirk. Orena caught that, and stored it away for later.

"You and me both, Commander Tymor. Now, let's go see how everyone's doing."

* * *

Rika followed Orena down a long series of corridors that she hadn't been down before, and together they entered a turbolift that took them down to the complete opposite side of the _Herald_ from the hangar bay. When the doors opened, the muffled sound of blaster fire reached their ears.

Outside of the turbolift, the corridor opened up to a large cavernous room, most likely a cargo hold in the ship's original trim level, but instead of a myriad of stacked containers reaching to the ceiling, there was only a series of crudely erected durasteel walls about two meters tall covering the majority of the deck. The muffled blaster fire was coming from inside those walls.

Orena motioned towards a service gantry that was beside one of the walls and led the way up the stairs and took up a position where they both could look in. Inside the perimeter of the walls, another series of durasteel panels were set up to make a maze, with dead ends and concealed cubby areas. From one side of this training maze was a group of troops wearing crude battle scared armor emblazoned with a red logo, and on the opposite side, and spread out throughout the random cubby holes and hidden corners, were other troops with blue marked armor. As the red group tried to work their way through, the blue group continued to ambush and attack them.

It didn't take Rika long to figure out that the blaster bolts were set mildly low, and only seemed to stun whoever was hit. While it wasn't lethal, she was certain that it still didn't feel good.

Together, Rika and Orena watched the two groups fight it out. Rika would be the first to admit that she wasn't the best judge of battle tactics, but even she could see that members of both sides were making pretty blatant rookie mistakes; ones that only got them stunned in this training exercise, but would get them killed in a live fire scenario. As if she could read her mind, Orena let out a sigh and crossed her arms.

"A far cry from the efficiency of the Grand Army, but they'll do fine. I'll be with them in the attack so I can keep an eye out for them," Orena said. Rika glanced over and raised her left brow, but didn't comment. To her, it seemed pretty presumptuous to think that simply being there would be enough to guarantee these men and women's safety. But, Orena was a proven battleground leader, and Rika conceded that she might actually be able to pull it off.

From across the training maze, the sound of a whistle blew, and Commander Oannes walked out from one of the maze entrances and climbed up the gantry to stand with the two Jedi.

"General, what do you think? I've drilled my men every moment since you gave the order."

"They seem pretty well ready for the upcoming mission," Orena said without a hint of her previous level of doubt. Oannes smiled briefly with pride and then saluted.

"When do we attack?" he asked.

"Soon. Have your men take some R&R, and be ready for the full debriefing at 1800."

"Yes sir!" As Oannes turned and went back into the maze to tell his men their new orders, Rika looked at Orena with a bit of shock present on her face.

"Doesn't that seem a little soon?" Rika asked. Orena lightly shrugged and then started to head back to the turbolift.

"Enough time's passed since the Count gave us this job. And besides, we're about as ready as we'll ever be. Now let's go see these fighters that I keep hearing so much about."

* * *

"So there we were, stuck in the middle of some massive graveyard for two battling fleets, being chased by the bounty killer Morthiath in his supped up interceptor. Every turn or maneuver I'd make, he'd match it perfectly. I tell ya, he was good; but not good enough." Randal sat back in his seat in the cafeteria area and crossed his arms, all the while smirking widely at all the faces paying ravenous attention to his story. Most were the new pilots they had recruited from Skip One, but several were other crewmembers of the _Herald_, and though they weren't sitting at the same table, a few of Fah's pilots were listening too.

"So what did you do? I heard that Morthiath was one of the best pilots in the Outer Rim," one of the pilots said. As Randal started to answer, Rika and Orena walked in, and stood near the bulkhead and listened.

"Well, like I said, he was good, but I was better. An interceptor's faster than a freighter, no matter what you do to it; it's just plain physics. I knew that, and he knew that. So I used that to my advantage. I shot a fuel canister and blew it up and flew into the flames when he was hot on my tail. While he dived, hoping I'd dive away from the fireball, I pulled up and circled around, coming in from behind." Randal demonstrated the maneuver with both of his hands, showing how he ended up behind his attacker. "Once I was behind him, I gave him everything I had. Blew his ship right out from up under him."

"So that's how he died. I always wondered; last I heard he was doing a job for some Gand," Zak Vass said as he nodded his head.

"That's not exactly how he met his end," Rika said from her position at the wall. Everyone looked up and saw her, so she folded her arms and continued. "That's how his ship got destroyed, but he managed to survive that. Randal then beat him in a one on one fight, with a little help of course." Everyone then looked back at Randal with dumbfounded expressions.

"How'd you manage that?" Forto asked in awe.

"Well, that's a totally different story. General, what do we owe the occasion of your company?" Randal said with a playful smile. Orena merely raised one eyebrow and didn't play into the cocky space jockey's game.

"I came to see how our additional pilots are finding their accommodations. Are the fighters to your liking?" she asked. Everyone nodded, but no one seemed to want to volunteer to say anything more.

"That's good. I hear you've taken the liberty of painting all of the fighters. I hope they look more tasteful than they did before," she said as she tried to sound friendly and not trying to come across as a strict overseer. It seemed to be working.

"They look good, ma'am, uh, sir, uh, General," Ouor Charr said as he stumbled for the right honorary. Orena lightly smiled, but didn't specify which she preferred.

"They're all one color now, which is the most important," his brother Lor Charr said with a nod.

"And what color would that be?" Orena asked.

"Blue," Randal said. Orena raised both of her brows and lightly nodded, and caught the brief glance in Rika's direction. Orena then looked at Rika, who seemed to be looking off at something at the other side of the cafeteria, but obviously wasn't looking back at either Randal or Orena. With a slight sigh, Orena turned back to the group and then spoke loudly enough for both sets of pilots to hear.

"Good. There'll be a full mission debriefing in docking bay 4 at 1800. Until then," Orena said with a slight bow of her head, and then left the cafeteria area.

Rika stood there momentarily, and then looked at the digital chronometer on the wall. "Well, I'd better go find a helmet that fits. I'll see you later," she said more or less to everyone, though she was looking at Randal. After she left, the pilots returned to their meal trays. After a moment, Vass broke the silence with a wide grin on his face.

"So, you think the General's available? All those powers must come in handy, right?" he said with a sly laugh. Several of the pilots around him shared in on the knowing joke, but Randal merely laughed back at him and shook his head.

"You must not know much about Jedi, Zak. They don't exactly work like that."

"You mean they don't have a little fun on the side?" Lor asked with a grin.

"Nope. And trust me, I've been with one for two years now," Randal said as he finished off his glass of water. The other pilots looked at each other in confusion about this newly revealed fact. But it was Forto that continued to eat as if nothing was said and made the only comment.

"Perhaps you're just not her type." Randal looked back at the Mon Calamari, but could only hold his laughter in for a mere second. As he erupted into laughter at the clever joke, all the others joined in as well.

* * *

Randal stepped out of the turbolift into docking bay 4 and looked around at the large crowd that had gathered. For a moment, he stopped walking and stood there looking around. Nearly everyone who worked in the station must have been present; there were dozens of people wearing mechanic's overalls, even more men and women wearing the same combat suits that Commander Oannes wore, and sitting at a set of chairs were the pilots of Commander Fah's original squadron, with the recruited ones lounging on a bulkhead close by.

He briefly looked over the crowd to see if he could find Rika, and found her and Geefive standing over by a durasteel gantry that overlooked a crudely constructed training maze. Once he saw her, he made his way over to her and nodded to her before he crossed his arms and leaned against one of the gantry's support beams.

"Big crowd."

"Yes, I was just thinking the same thing. Orena's got quite the operation here; I didn't even think there were this many people on the station."

"Hopefully when this is over, they'll all still be here," Randal commented. Rika nodded, but didn't have to respond. She was sure that the feeling was mutually shared with everyone in the room.

Though everyone was talking and carrying on, filling the large docking bay with a constant droning hum, they all went quite when Commander Fah and Oannes stood to attention and saluted.

"General on deck!" Oannes barked out. Everyone else then stood from their seats and saluted back, except for Rika, Randal, and the recruited pilots. Rika stood with her hands behind her back and nodded to her old friend as she approached the gantry from the turbolift. Randal pushed off from the gantry support and unfolded his arms, but merely shared a look with one of the newer pilots at the somewhat unfamiliar military procedure. Some of the other new pilots looked around confused, and Forto tried to salute back, but looked quite awkward about it. If Orena noticed, she didn't make any sign of it.

Orena quickly climbed up the gantry stairs and nodded for everyone to take their seats. After everyone sat down, she cleared her throat and spoke loudly but clearly.

"As all of you may have heard by now, we've accepted our first major contract; and before anyone asks, yes, it is against the Empire." To this confirmation, a cheer rose up through the group. When they finished, Orena continued on. "We've been contracted to acquire a rare artifact that is being held on an Imperial garrison in the Glythe Sector. The garrison itself is a KDY Impenetrable class, defended by eight batteries of turbolasers and two squadrons of starfighters." At this point, she looked down and made a brief nod to Geefive, who responded by rotating his domed head around and projected a 10 meter tall hologram of the station. Randal raised a brow and looked down at his little friend.

"Trying to get in good with the General?" he joked. Geefive whistled back that instead he could project a recording he'd made of Randal practicing drawing his blaster in front of a mirror if he'd like. Rika laughed at this, which made Randal shake his head and his face turn a shade of red.

"Our fighters will escort the _Lion's Head_ into the system and will advance on the station to take out as many of the turbolasers as possible before they are engaged by the enemy fighters. Once the defensive guns have been eliminated, the _Lion's Head_ will move into the station and deposit our ground forces. Since I've been inside this station before, I'll be leading the ground assault. From there, we make our way into the station, recover the artifact, and then regroup at the ship for extraction. Any questions?" For a moment, everyone just looked over the hologram and thought it out in their heads, but then Lor Charr raised his hand and tried to speak loud enough for Orena to hear him.

"How're we going to take out those guns?"

"Good question. The individual batteries will be shielded, so hitting them with your cannons would take too long. Instead, you'll be using concussion missiles. However, due to our limited supply of ordinance, we can only equip each fighter with two missiles a piece. So make them count." One of the troops raised his hand and when Orena nodded at him, he asked his question.

"How many stormtroopers are in the station?"

"From what we've been told, anywhere around a hundred." To this, there was some murmuring among the troops, but Orena continued and they got quiet. "Imperial stormtroopers are nothing to take for granted, but I know their tactics. Our target is relatively easy to get to, so it's simply a matter of getting in and out quickly. Any other questions?" She looked over the crowd, but didn't see anyone else raising their hands. "Good. I want everyone to get a good rest and be ready at 0800 tomorrow for deployment." With that, she got off of the gantry and everyone in the crowd began to stand and leave.

Randal looked at Rika and shrugged his shoulders before he too started to head off. "Well, better sooner than later, I guess."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Now or Never

Once the turbolift doors opened, Rika stepped out quickly and passed the group of technicians who were all ready beginning to cram themselves into the small turbolift that she had just vacated. The main hangar bay was filled with the sounds of operating machinery, whining engines, thumping fuel pumps, and a multitude of different hydraulic hisses. All around her, groups of technicians and service droids moved about, completing any last minute detail work they had to do before the fighters launched.

As she made her way through the semi-orderly chaos, she saw all of the pilots of the newly named Gray Squadron doing their final preflight checks on their fighters. Rika went to hers and made sure that the service droid had properly loaded her two missiles, and had topped off her fuel tanks. She climbed partially up the entrance ladder and looked into the cramped cockpit, but instead of fully climbing in, she placed her helmet on the seat and then used her elevated vantage point to look around for Randal. She could see his fighter, but he was nowhere near it. When she looked over to where the _Destrier_ sat, along the inner bulkhead and away from the flight path of the fighters, she could see the entry ramp was lowered.

With a quick jump, she got off of the ladder and began to make her way to the _Destrier_. As she walked, she passed the _Lion's Head_, where all of the ground troops, numbering thirty men not counting Commander Oannes or Orena, were busy securing their thick battle uniforms and making sure that their weapons were ready for action. When she reached the _Destrier_'s ramp, she could hear the beeping of Geefive coming from inside.

"What do you mean you haven't seen it? It was right here the last time I saw it!" Geefive beeped a response, but Randal just sighed and continued to rummage through the series of lockers lining the bulkhead near the engine room. Rika leaned out from the corner of the bulkhead and raised her brow in question.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

"What? Oh, I'm trying to find my old helmet. It was here the last time I saw the blasted thing."

"Why not just get a new one? Orena's people have plenty of them, I'm sure one of them would fit your over-inflated head," she said with a smile.

"Nice. No, I've got a history with mine, it's lucky. And before you say it, yes, I know you don't believe in luck. But for us non-Jedi, we make our own luck, and that helmet's been with me in every mission I ever flew. Ah, here it is!" he said as he threw a series of rags out of the way and pulled the old scarred white helmet up and held it forward. Rika looked at the helmet and could make out a series of red striped along the sides, and a handmade sticker on the crown.

"_Ladykiller_? Really?" she asked with a shake of her head.

"Well," Randal said with a shrug and a smirk, "why hide the truth, right?"

"Come on, flyboy. It's about time to head out of here," Rika said before she turned to leave. As the two exited the _Destrier_, Geefive followed behind and remotely closed the ramp. As they walked through the slowly dying commotion, Geefive whistled his farewell and headed towards the _Lion's Head_.

"Where's he going?" Rika asked.

"He volunteered to be the navigator on the _Lion's Head_. I can't think of a better candidate for the job, myself." When the two reached the fighters, Randal touched Rika on the arm and she turned around to look at him.

"You'll be fine up there. And remember, you got the first round when we get back."

"I thought it was your turn?"

"Well, I guess we better both come back so we can finish this argument. Good luck," Randal said. He paused for a moment and looked into her eyes, but then turned and headed to his fighter.

"May the Force be with you," Rika called out to his back. He didn't turn around, but simply lifted his helmet above his head in response. Rika lightly ran to her fighter and jumped up the ladder. She lifted her helmet up from her seat, and after making sure her lekku were directly behind her, placed the protective shell over her head. Once the strap was on tightly, she nimbly placed her legs into the cockpit and slid down into the seat. With a quick series of thrown switches, the power systems came online and the engines whined to life.

Randal held his helmet under his arm and climbed up the old ladder with a sense of old habit that he hadn't used in years. A service technician was squatting on the wing and took his helmet from him while he climbed into the cockpit. As Randal held his breath as he squeezed into the cockpit, he bumped his legs and hips several times into the controls before he finally fell into the seat. As he exhaled and shook his head as he took his helmet back from the tech, he spoke aloud more or less to himself.

"I don't remember these things being such a tight fit." As he put his helmet on and attached the chin strap, the tech motioned towards the power generator and expressed his own professional opinion.

"You think the generator's going to take the strain from those extra guns?"

"It better," was all Randal could think of as he shrugged his shoulders. The tech shook his head and climbed down from the ladder. As Randal brought his fighter online and sealed the cockpit, he let out a breath and refamiliarized himself with the controls.

It wasn't long after this that the traffic control officer's voice came over the comm channel and gave the signal for the fighters to launch. One by one, they each lifted off and retracted their landing gear before blasting out of the station and headed towards the open vacuum of space. Though they were all flying relatively close to one another, there wasn't much of an order to their flight pattern other than up.

"All right, Gray Squadron, assemble on my marker," Commander Fah said. On everyone's positioning and targeting computer, the friendly blue blip began to appear and the other fighters began to close formation.

"All fighters, report in," Commander Fah ordered. One by one, they gave the standing by signal.

"Gray Three, standing by," Rhyssa Glopio said.

"Gray Seven, standing by," Randal said as he adjusted his trim settings.

"Gray Eight, standing by," Rika said with her eyes closed, calling on the Force for strength.

"Gray Eleven, standing by," Lor Charr said as he kissed his good luck charm, a Gizka foot, and tucked it into his flight suit pocket.

"Gray Twelve, standing by," Ouor Charr said with a hint of boredom in his voice.

"Gray 9, standing by," Siiwook Forto said as he silently prayed for good fortune from his ancestors.

"Gray Ten, standing by," Zak Vass said as he put a new stick of Rodian chewing gum into his mouth.

"Gray Squadron reported in and standing by for your order, General," Commander Fah said as he led the fifteen other fighters in a cruising formation.

"Very good. Form up around me and wait for the signal before entering hyperspace," the voice of Orena said over the comm. As they flew on a steady course, the _Lion's Head_ came into view, and the fighters split into two groups and flew along both flanks of the frigate. Randal looked down and saw the data being transmitted to his navicomputer and he reached forward to the small and hard to get at hyperdrive lever. When the signal light turned green, he pulled the small lever, and with a jarring burst of motion, the tiny Z-95 rocketed away into hyperspace along with the other sixteen ships.

* * *

Orena walked forward towards the bridge, her hands held behind her back. As she passed the rows of sitting troops that were going over their gear or saying hidden prayers to themselves to help pass the time, she nodded to those who looked up. With an unspoken nod towards a group of five unarmored men, they nodded back and went to the controls for the five turbolasers.

The doors to the cockpit opened with a quick hydraulic hiss and closed behind her. Sitting in the pilot's chair was Arby, who slightly turned his head around and nodded his metallic head and went back to his controls. Geefive turned his domed head around and whistled a greeting, and continued to spin his uplink module into the computer interface.

"Time?" she asked.

"Two minutes and counting," Arby replied. Orena nodded and let out a slow steadying breath and called on the Force to calm her nerves.

"Set our exit vector at 2 kilometers from the station. I want to take as much advantage as we can from our surprise arrival."

"We'd be in range of their turbolasers," Arby stated plainly.

"I know. We'll have to rely on Commander Fah and the other pilots to take those cannons out quickly. Set the shields for double front, just in case."

"Yes sir. Approaching exit vector in 20..."

* * *

Rika watched the small readout for the navicomputer count down from ten as she held her breath and gripped the small lever for the hyperdrive. When it reached zero, she pushed it forward and then had to stop her head from slamming into the control surface as the small fighter fell out of hyperspace. As she pushed herself back into the rear of the cockpit and fought the g-forces, all around her, the other ships came out of hyperspace as well.

With a sudden and rapidly succeeding series of static crackles, everyone's radio frequencies came back online, and without a moment of wasted time, Commander Fah's voice came over the system.

"Bring weapon systems online, and raise deflector shields to full. Everyone knows their designated targets, proceed at full throttle."

Rika quickly turned the few knobs and levers to bring the generator to full output, checked the power distribution levels to both the shields and weapons, and then pushed the throttle that was on the left side of the cockpit all the way forward.

"All right, let's do this!" one of the pilots exclaimed in adrenaline powered enthusiasm and rocketed forward towards his target. As Rika finished pushing her throttle all the way forward, she put both hands on the control stick and made sure her trajectory was right. Alongside her, another fighter took up a position at her wing. Rika briefly looked over and saw a fighter with four cannons, and a helmeted person inside giving her a thumbs up. Rika nodded quickly back, and turned back around to see what was coming up ahead.

In the other fighter, Randal smirked widely as he saw Rika nod quickly and look back forward. With his fighter screaming ahead at full speed, he couldn't help but feel exhilarated at being at the controls of a starfighter again.

The fighter group closed the distance quickly, and soon they were breaking off to get better attack angles on their designated targets. The station was all ready beginning to react to the attack, and now all eight of the turbolaser batteries were moving to respond. Several of the cannons began to fire at the attackers, but the Z-95's were much too small and maneuverable for the big slow moving guns to track.

"Fire once you have confirmation of a targeting solution," Commander Fah said calmly as he watched his targeting computer. When the readout locked on and turned green, he pressed the thumb button on his control stick and with a jarring jolt, one of his concussion missiles launched out of his port side tube. The missile raced ahead of his position, but he was travelling at such an incredible speed that he had to pull up and watch the outcome from above.

The missile raced along its intended flight path and impacted in a fiery explosion on the surface of the battery, but when the initial flare faded away, Fah could see that only a portion of the battery was destroyed, and the remaining parts were still moving and operable.

"Attention! Fire both of your missiles at the targets, one isn't enough! Repeat, one isn't enough!"

Randal concentrated on his targeting computer's readout, but he started to notice that the readout wasn't finalizing a solution fast enough for his rapid approach. Instead, he looked up and eyeballed the holographic targeting reticule on the center of the battery and held down on the firing button. With a thumping resonation that shook the entire fighter, both missiles rocketed away and he pulled up on the control stick.

As Randal began to pull up, Rika's indicator turned green, and she fired both missiles and pulled up as well. The four missiles hit the battery in rapid succession, causing two large and outreaching explosions to flower out as the turbolaser erupted into a thousand charred and indiscernible pieces.

At the same time, all of the other seven cannons erupted into fiery destruction as well, including the one the Fah had launched his single missile at. After a visual confirmation that all of the cannons were taken care of, Orena gave the order to move forward and spoke into the microphone at the fighters.

"Good work. We're moving in for our attack now. Maintain a perimeter and engage any enemy fighters. Happy hunting." With that, she put the microphone down and went back into the main hold.

"Everyone, listen up. We're making our approach now. Be ready."

As the fighters pulled away from the now defenseless station and slowed their speed, Commander Fah leveled his fighter and spoke into his comm.

"Everyone tighten formation around me. Let's provide an escort to the General and keep your eyes open for those enemy fighters."

Quickly, the sixteen fighters regrouped and made a wide angled turn and came back alongside the _Lion's Head_. For a brief moment, they only escorted the larger frigate in an eerie quiet. All of the pilot's eyes were open and scanning the space around them, looking for the enemy fighters that they knew were somewhere around here.

"Why haven't they launched their fighters yet?" Forto asked the question that was on everyone's minds. Rika narrowed her brow as she checked her scanners, which didn't show anything in the area. At first, she didn't notice the obvious, but when she took another look at the scanner screen, she noticed that while it didn't show any enemy fighters on the screen, it didn't show any of her squad mates either.

"They're jamming our sensors!" she exclaimed, and before anyone could react, the first of the incoming enemy fighters erupted their cannon fire from behind and above. As the Z-95's broke off to react, the incoming enemy fire caught one of them directly above the generator, and caused the fighter to explode in a brilliant display of burning oxygen reserves and shrapnel.

As Randal rolled his fighter around and yawed it around to face the incoming fire, he could see an entire squadron bearing down from that vector, all now opening fire on both his fellow fighters and the _Lion's Head_.

All of Gray Squadron broke to engage out of pure instinct, and abandoned all combat protocols of keeping with a wingman. As they engaged their attackers, Rika quickly counted only about one squadron's worth of the V-Wings, and before she could ask where the other squad was at, they started to pour out of the hangar bay of the station.

"We've got more incoming from the station!" she yelled as she evaded one fighter's fire and shot down another. Fah looked quickly towards the station and knew that if those fighters reached the fight and his squadron didn't change their tactics now, they'd be all quickly shot down.

"Gray Squadron, break off and regroup with your wingman. Get ready for more fighters to join the fun." Even though they were still being shot at, the pilots of Gray Squadron were able to regroup quickly, partnered up with a wingman, and began to reenter the combat, now watching out for their fellow pilots.

As the fighters regrouped and engaged the larger enemy force, Orena gave the signal for Arby to make for the station. The droid responded by pushing the throttle lever forward, and the _Lion's Head_ tore away towards the open and beckoning landing bay. As the ship made its way to its target, Orena turned and left the cockpit and motioned for her troops to listen up.

"This is it, men! Watch your backs, and trust in the man on either side of you and we'll all make it back alive." Even after she said this, she knew that it was a lie; some of them weren't going to be coming back, but it wouldn't do any good to actually say the truth at this moment. With a confident nod from every one of the troopers, they all held their guns close to their chests, and stood from their seats. Orena moved ahead to the sealed entry doors and waited for the light to change from red to green.

Arby rolled the _Lion's Head_ slightly to port, and broke through the magnetic barrier of the hangar bay. Without paying any attention to his standard landing procedure protocols, he fired the retrorockets and lowered the landing gear. With a jarring thump, the _Lion's Head_ set down in the hangar, and he idled the massive engines and repulsorlifts for the quick departure. Geefive busily turned the computer uplink module, using all of the ship's scanners to monitor all movement and potential risks in the hangar. Up above, a cannon started to come to life and rotated its barrels in their direction, but a quickly calculated blast from the top forward most turret blasted the gun before it could fire on them. Once all other threats were neutralized, Geefive gave the all clear.

When the light changed from red to green, Orena punched the release button and was the first to jump down from the still opening doors to land on the hangar bay decking plates. Before she even had both feet on the ground, her green blazing lightsaber was activated, and was all ready deflecting the fire from the incoming stormtroopers, who were now pouring out of a hydraulic blast door.

While she stood her ground, rapidly deflecting the blasts back at the stormtroopers, her own fighting force began to pour out and opened fire back at the enemy. One of her men went down, and she soon looked around for a means of ending this particular battle and to quickly move on. High above, along the rafters for the hangar, she saw something useful. Quickly, she reached out with her left hand, grasped the hanging cargo container with the Force, and brought it down fiercely over the open door. With a resounding crash, followed by an odd silence, the container crushed those stormtroopers who were unlucky enough to be standing in the way and sealed off the others in the corridor.

Orena motioned quickly to the rest of her team and began sprinting for the far side of the hangar to the same path that the Governor had led her only days before.

* * *

Randal pulled up hard on his control stick, pulled back slightly on the throttle to slow his speed, and then banked hard to starboard as he engaged the right side rudder pedal causing the Z-95 to roll and yaw to the right. As he rolled over, he saw a lone V-Wing flying in a slow arcing turn and once his nose was aligned with the enemy fighter, he leveled off his flight path and pushed the throttle back forward to full.

The enemy V-Wing continued his semi-leisurely turn, but once Randal got the fighter within targeting range and he opened fire with the four blazing cannons, the V-Wing instantly banked hard to port and rolled to avoid the fire. Randal followed every move the veteran clone pilot made, but after a mere second of continuous fire, a warning light began to blink on his console to let him know he was overloading the small fighter's generator. Randal let off of the trigger, and the buzzer soon stopped, and the accompanying amperage gauge returned to normal operating levels.

"Well that's good to know," he commented to himself with a frown as he waited for the V-Wing to make a mistake and stay in his holographic cross hairs long enough to deliver the killing blow.

After the incoming blaster fire stopped, the clone pilot leveled off his flight path and made the critical mistake of pausing while he turned around to see if his attacker was still on his tail. For that split moment when he stayed level, Randal locked on and opened fire. The four cannons roared to life and spewed red blazing death out at lightning speed, and tore through the shields of the smaller fighter and ripped through the armor plating. Before the clone pilot could even react, the fire erupted the fuel cell and sent a fireball of debris and burning oxygen reserves out in all directions.

Siiwook Forto rolled his fighter to port and completed four rolls and then dove at a 90 degree angle from the center of the combat zone, his engines wining as he pushed the throttle to full. The maneuver did what he needed; now the clone pilot that had been hot on his tail was now above him and had lost him in the dive. Quickly, Forto pulled back on his throttle and pulled the nose of his fighter back up, then pushed the throttle back forward. The V-Wing caught this maneuver, and compensated by pushing his throttle to full as well, making his smaller and quicker fighter pull away.

Forto gritted his jaw tightly at his misfortune, but concentrated not on his targeting computer's readout, but instead focused on the actual enemy fighter. Quickly, he judged the distance and the speed of the V-Wing, and brought his crosshairs to a point well ahead of his target. With a firm squeeze, he depressed the trigger and let loose a series of red hot plasma which at first seemed to completely miss his target, but as the V-Wing continued to accelerate away, it flew directly into the blaster fire, which impacted hard on the underbelly of the Imperial fighter. The blast buffeted the shields of the small fighter and sent it spiraling out of control, where it then clipped the wing of another V-Wing by accident, which then caused both to explode in a brilliant display of red fire.

Rika continued to lay on the blaster fire until her target disintegrated into a billion pieces, then pulled up to avoid the flaming remnants. As she caught her breath, and looked to see where Randal had gone off to, her shields crackled with enemy fire, and a buzzer started to go off to let her know the obvious; she was being chased by another fighter!

For a brief moment she panicked, but she let the full nature of the Force flow through her, and she regained her control. Quickly, she pulled up on the stick and caught a brief glimpse of her attacker doing the same, all the while firing his cannons at her. But just when she saw that he pulled up more than she was so he could bring himself in for a better attack angle, she forced her fighter into a tight roll to port, and then dove away.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that her attacker had now realized what she had done, and was now yawing to his left to catch back up with her. She then pushed her throttle to full and pressed her back firmly against her seat as she felt the incredible amount of g forces pressing in on her as her Z-95 executed a tight and powerful turn.

She knew that the V-Wings' were incredibly fast fighters, but what they gained in speed, they lacked out on maneuverability. The clone pilot continued his rudder-driven turn, but Rika's four engined Headhunter powered through the turn more sharply. Once the clone realized that he couldn't complete his turn, he veered off to his right and hoped to gain enough distance to turn around and get another shot in.

Once the V-Wing veered away, Rika lessened the amount of throttle she was giving the engines, gut-wrenchingly rolled her fighter to the left, and then brought up the nose to get right behind the retreating enemy. Quickly she forced the throttle back to full and raced after the unknowing enemy. He must have caught sight of her, because he tried to roll off in another direction, but it was now too late. Rika opened fire on his tail and erupted his engines, causing a rippling explosion to rush forward quicker than the speed of the V-Wing, making it look as if the destructive wave was washing over the doomed fighter.

But while she was having a successful hunt, others were not as fortunate. Gray Four, one of Commander Fah's original Naboo pilots, was busily trying to fight off the incoming fire from a pursuing fighter. Every move he made, the V-Wing made as well, and with such speed and proficiency, it was almost as if he knew what he was going to do before even he did. As Gray Four tried to roll into a dive, the V-Wing rolled first, and peppered the entire forward fuselage of Gray Four's fighter, tearing through his defector screens and erupting the nose of his fighter in a blaze of death. The last sounds anyone heard from him was his dying scream before the devastating flames over took him.

* * *

Orena led the charge down an abandoned corridor and was about to make the turn to enter an adjoining one, when a sudden flash of the Force made her stop in her tracks. Her boots skidded along the polished durasteel floor as she grabbed the smooth wall surface to help her stop. She was being followed so closely by her men, that when she suddenly tried to stop, they all ran into each other as they tried to react. One trooper was unfortunate enough to not get enough traction on his boots, and slid into the opening of the adjoining corridor.

In the last fleeting moment of his life, he was able to look down the new corridor and saw an entire squadron of stormtroopers in defensive stance with all of their weapons aimed directly at him. Before he could even begin to show his sudden wave of fright, he was pelted with over a dozen different blaster bolts.

Orena turned her head away as the unlucky trooper hit the far wall and slumped to the floor, the stormtrooper's fire still hitting his lifeless body in unmerciful efficiency. In one fluid motion, she deactivated her lightsaber and hung it back on her belt, and then drew her crossdraw-rigged blaster. She didn't dare risk exposing much of herself around the corner, so instead just fired blindly down the corridor towards the squad of stormtroopers. After firing three times blindly around the corner, the stormtroopers concentrated their fire on her exposed blaster, so she withdrew it and pressed her back against the wall.

She was about to ask Commander Oannes for a grenade to throw down at the stormtroopers' position, but just as she turned her head, a set of blast doors further down their own corridor opened, and another squad of stormtroopers started to pour out. Orena's group spread out in the relatively unprotected corridor and started to open fire on the new group of enemy soldiers.

But while they tried to make themselves smaller targets by pressing against the walls, they were too exposed, and they started to get decimated quickly. Orena fired her blaster into the chest of one of the stormtroopers and instantly started to search for a quick way to end this.

Behind the stormtroopers, she saw a large transparasteel panel that looked out into the vacuum of space. Without even thinking, she drew upon the Force and grabbed one of the stormtroopers, and hurled him towards the transparasteel. He let out a scream as his armored body impacted the panel, shattering it into a thousand pieces. As the panel erupted, the atmosphere in the station started to pour out with such violent force that all of the stormtroopers lost their balance and tumbled backwards, some even being so unlucky as to be sucked out into the vacuum of space before the blast shields automatically closed themselves to seal off the breach.

Those stormtroopers that were still inside were quickly shot down by Orena's troops before they had a chance to recover. Before waiting another moment, Orena made a hand sign for a grenade, which one of her men supplied, and she quickly armed it and tossed it down the corridor that they needed to head down.

She could hear the sounds of the grenade bouncing a few times with a metallic clang, and then there was a brief commotion between the troopers before the explosive erupted. Without waiting another moment, Orena holstered her blaster and again activated her lightsaber and ran passed the corner. All of the stormtroopers were down, but a few of them were still moving and moaning. As her group passed, several of her troopers paused momentarily to fire shots into these stormtroopers at point blank range. She frowned at this, but didn't say anything. Instead, she motioned her men forward and then ran to take up the lead.

* * *

Zak Vass, or Gray 10, pulled up on his control stick and pushed the throttle a little forward as his Z-95 skimmed the surface of the space station. The blaster fire from the pursuing V-Wing impacted hard on the surface of the station, sending shrapnel and billowing fire out as he missed his target. Vass briefly turned his head around and saw that though the V-Wing missed, it was now skimming the surface just as closely as he was.

He cursed to himself as he moved back and forth trying to avoid the enemy fire. If he didn't think of something soon, he was going to be space dust much sooner than he hoped. Reacting out of desperation, he pulled up hard on the control stick and grimaced as the G forces pushed him hard and down back into his seat.

As his fighter began to pull up in a frame twisting loop, the V-Wing too began to pull up to follow the maneuver. Vass fought off the blackness that was creeping into the corners of his eyes and struggled to take in a breath against the incredible forces that were pressing down on him. Without warning, he pushed the stick fully to the right, making his fighter roll. He then pressed hard on the left rudder pedal, causing his fighter to yaw to the left as it rolled to the right.

The V-Wing tried to compensate, but the odd angle of the maneuver that Vass was doing bled off much of his speed, and the V-Wing was moving too fast to slow down to keep behind him. The clone pilot's options were few; he could either continue to try and match the maneuver and potentially collide with the Z-95, or he could pull away and hope that his enemy couldn't recover and become the attacker. In the end, the clone pilot decided that he would have to take the risk, and pulled away.

As the V-Wing pulled away, Vass grinned to himself and let off on the control stick enough to alleviate the g force pressures. Quickly, he wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed the throttle forward as he raced after the enemy fighter. But if Vass thought it was going to be easy, he was wrong.

When he tried to line up his crosshairs on the enemy fighter, the V-Wing suddenly rolled completely upside down and then pulled away. Vass violently threw his fighter into the same downward dive and laid on his trigger in a vain attempt at showing his frustration. The nimble little fighter continued to evade his fire, and then broke away to the left. Again, Vass violently turned his fighter to keep up, but once he leveled off behind the other, he regretted it.

The V-Wing had sprung a well calculated trap on Vass; he had led him directly into the line of fire of three waiting V-Wings. Vass tried to pull away in time, but the combined fire of the three fighters tore his shields apart and erupted his bottom left engine. The engine went into a high cycling overload, which caused his fighter to spin out of control. Overloading circuits began to erupt and ignite as unrestricted electricity began to course over the entire fuselage of the fighter. Vass screamed as the burning flames began to lick out and savagely burn his hands and face as he tried to fight open the canopy in a natural effort to save his life. As if out of mercy, his original opponent had circled back around and now opened fire on the out of control fighter, erupting it into a thousand burning pieces.

Randal cursed aloud for the umpteenth time as he waited for his amperage gauge to return back to normal levels before he opened fire again. As his target exploded violently, he rolled to his left and looked for another target. Above, he could see one of his fellow Z-95's racing above the battle while being pursued by two enemy fighters. With a devilish grin, he pushed his throttle forward and raced away to get in behind those pursuers.

Commander Fah cursed to himself as he looked behind and saw that there wasn't just one enemy fighter, but two hot on his tail. One of them opened fire, but the blasts missed Fah's left wing by a few meters. Fah rolled his fighter to the right, and then back to the left in an effort to confuse his attackers. One of them went slightly off of target, but the other continued close behind him. Again, the fighter opened fire, and this time one of the shots glanced off of his rear generator housing. A warning klaxon sounded, and on the small readout screen a notification came up saying that the rudder function had malfunctioned. Fah tested his rudder pedals, and cursed himself silently when they didn't react. The enemy fire continued to fly all around him, and he sadly had to admit to himself that this was likely to be his end.

Randal saw one of the two pursuing fighters open fire and hit his compatriot, but it didn't knock it out of the fight. As Randal quickly closed the gap, the other pursuing fighter now began to open fire. Randal knew that he would have to do this quick and carefully.

Randal brought his fighter in not directly behind the enemy fighters, but off to their left slightly. He took in a deep breath, and then hit his right rudder and pressed the trigger. Fire erupted from his four cannons and tore through the flank of the first fighter. Quickly, he let off on the trigger to let the generator repower, and then as his fighter continued to turn to the right, he pressed it again when his crosshairs came to rest on the second fighter. One of the shots ripped the left stabilizer off and the out of control V-Wing careened off before exploding.

"Thanks, I owe you one," Commander Fah said to his unknown rescuer.

"I'll remember that," Randal said back and pulled away to rejoin the fight.

* * *

Orena deflected an incoming blaster bolt and sent it back into the chest of the stormtrooper who had shot it. The further her battle group pressed forward into the station, the more resistance they encountered. But as they turned yet another corner, she could see the still open doors that led to the Governor's private quarters. But while the doors might have been open, the entrance was guarded by what must have been all of the rest of the station's stormtrooper regiment.

"Grenades!" she yelled out from behind the safety of a corner and then ducked as three of her troopers pulled the pins and then hurled them towards the stormtroopers. Not waiting for them to explode, Orena turned the corner and rushed the white armored soldiers. As the grenades exploded and sent stormtroopers flying everywhere, she jumped into the midst of their group and began swinging her lightsaber with deadly efficiency. Those that still stood after the grenade attack were now soon lying dead on the ground.

From inside the Governor's quarters, Governor Talan coughed as he tried to clear away the smoke and pointed towards the few remaining stormtroopers who were now blocking him from the attackers outside.

"Close those doors! And where are the rest of the squads?" One of his remaining stormtroopers pushed the controls to close the security doors, and then the ten centimeter thick durasteel doors sealed shut.

The massive doors slammed shut with a cracking thud, which seemed to cut off all sound of the battle. Orena took a moment to catch her breath while what remained of her men ran up and looked for a way to open the door.

"It looks pretty solid. I don't think we have enough grenades to blow this thing," Commander Oannes said.

"I'll handle this," Orena said before she forced the tip of her lightsaber into the thick metal of the door. Her arms began to shake from the effort it took to force the blade through the thick durasteel, and she carefully worked the blade upwards, looking to sever the locking mechanism that was keeping the door shut. As the molten slag dripped down to the deck, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her task. Suddenly, not by sight or sound, she could feel that she had found her mark, but the doors still didn't open.

Orena withdrew her blade, and then reached out with her hands and let the full power of the Force flow through her. Commander Oannes and the other men watched her with cocked eyebrows, not really sure of what she was trying to accomplish now. But when her countenance turned to one of struggling with a great effort, the massive mass of the right side door began to shake and creak loudly. Then, as if the door were only made out of a simple piece of flimsi, the bottom corner began to bend away, and with a last exerting push, the corner bent upwards revealing a two meter tall hole in the once impenetrable surface.

Oannes gave a quick motion with his gun barrel and was the first through the makeshift door. As he entered, he caught the two remaining stormtroopers by surprise, and shot them before they could react. As the rest of his men came in, they found the Governor cowering behind a couch, and forced him to his feet with his hands in the air.

Though the Governor was captured, he tried to put a look of defiance on his face, though his heightened level of fear was clearly visible. Orena entered the room and the Governor looked at her with a sudden realization.

"You? Beka Thegus? But you were just a spacer."

"It's Orena Melar, actually. General of the Grand Army of the Republic, and Jedi Knight. And if you cooperate, Governor, there's no reason why you won't make it out of this alive." Orena turned away from the Governor and went to the glass display case that held the Loag Dagger.

"Jedi Knight? Looks more like a common thief," the Governor said as Orena bashed the pommel end of her lightsaber into the glass case and took the dagger out.

"My kind are going through some hard times, Governor. We have what we came for, now let's get out of here," Orena said as she headed towards the exit. Oannes nodded and motioned for his men to follow, but momentarily took his eyes off of the Governor. With a quickness that was belying his age, he squatted down and picked up one of the fallen stormtrooper's blaster rifles, and leveled it at Orena's back. Through the Force, she could feel the tremor that the Governor was creating and started to turn around. Her motion made Oannes turn around as well, and he saw the barrel of the weapon being trained on his leader.

Acting instinctively, he jumped in the way, and caught the blaster bolt square in his chest that was meant to pierce the heart of his leader. As he went down, the rest of his men opened fire, and caught the Governor in a hail of blazing plasma shots, sending his lifeless body to the floor.

Orena scrambled to the floor and turned Oannes over onto his back and held his head as he fought to open his eyes. He looked up at her and tried to speak, but he started to cough instead, and then his head fell back as he let out his last sighing breath.

She held his lifeless body in her arms for a moment that seemed to last forever, and then gently laid him down and stood back up.

"Come on, let's not make his sacrifice be in vain." Orena turned and led the way out, and as each of her men passed the body of Commander Oannes, they all nodded their heads in respect one last time and followed her out.

* * *

"We're not going to last much longer out here!" Rika yelled as she dove away from an exploding Z-95 that was just flying on her wing. She throttled up her fighter and banked slightly to her right as she passed the landing bay with the waiting _Lion's Head_ still inside. As she streaked past, she could see the tiny figures running now towards the entry ramp. "I think they've made it! I can see them in the landing bay now!"

"Good. Gray Squadron, on me. We're going to escort them out of the hangar and then jump to the rendezvous point," Commander Fah said as he rolled his fighter to an approach vector. Though there were still plenty of V-Wings flying around and firing, all of the remaining Z-95's broke from their individual dogfights and came together.

* * *

As they reached the _Lion's Head_, Orena stopped by the ramp and let her men get onto the ship before she did. As they started to run up the lowered ramp, a cargo lift on the opposite side of the hangar rose up from the decking plates carrying the last squadron of stormtroopers that the station had to offer. Orena drew her blaster and fired a quick couple of shots, but once the last of her men limped up the ramp, she stepped off of the deck plating and back onto the _Lion's Head_.

"Get us out of here!" she yelled towards the cockpit. Arby didn't protest, and he quickly engaged the repulsorlifts and began to back the frigate out of the landing bay. The stormtroopers continued to fire their rifles at the departing ship, but as Arby turned the ship around to blast forward and away from the station, Geefive used the computer targeting system to control one of the starboard turbolaser cannons, and fired point blank back into the hangar bay, causing a massive explosion and a rolling fireball to consume any remaining enemy forces in the hangar.

As the _Lion's Head_ began to rocket away from the station, the Z-95's of Gray Squadron pulled alongside and flew through the still pursuing V-Wings, but didn't pay them much mind as they all engaged their hyperdrives and became nothing more than a distant dot among the stars.

* * *

A/N: Well, that was certainly a long chapter, and lots of action! There's still one more chapter after this one, you know, the one that wraps everything up. Hopefully you liked this chapter, and if you did (or didn't) let me know!


	9. Chapter 9

Epilogue: The Price of Freedom

_Jomoire. Outer Rim._

Upon their return, they were greeted by raucous applause from all of the support staff and others who didn't participate in the mission directly. The pilot's of the Z-95s all jumped out and participated in the spontaneous celebration and the entire crowd moved over to the lowering entry ramp of the _Lion's Head_ to congratulate their compatriots. But as they watched the battered and wounded men walking down, something struck everyone instantly; there were so _few_ of them. Those that did walk down under their own power were congratulated and given pats on the back, and those that had to be carried out on stretchers were given heartfelt nods and encouraging squeezes from their friends' hands. When Orena walked down the ramp, the dejected look on her face was enough to bring the level of excitement down, and before long, everyone had returned to their normal duties.

The soldiers made their way to the medical bay, while the pilots went over their fighters and then retired to their quarters. Several hours after their return to the _Herald_, Rika closed the shroud over the generator on her Z-95 and jumped back down onto the flight deck. A blue accented R5 astrodroid beeped a question to her, and she nodded back in response.

"The generator mod held up pretty well. When you find time, give the fighter a routine maintenance inspection." The R5 whistled an affirmative, then hummed a low volume comment to himself about him "finding the time" since that was all he ever did day in and day out. Rika didn't react to the droid's personal ponderings, and instead walked over to Randal's Z-95, where he was busily fighting to fit his torso into the tight generator compartment.

"Well there's got to be a way to boost the power. Get me the hydrospanner," he yelled back out to Geefive, who simply whistled back his own thoughts on how he was just simply over taxing the generator. "Yeah, yeah, so you keep telling me. But I know this can work; it just needs a larger capacitor or something." Rika took the hydrospanner out of the tool box and held it up for him to take. Randal pulled his head out to grab the offered hydrospanner, but paused when he saw that it was Rika holding it.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked as he took the tool.

"All right. My fighter's in good shape and could go back for more if it needed to. How about yours?" she said as she nodded her head at the fighter's fuselage.

"Everything's fine except for this damned generator. I can only get about a second of continuous fire before the generator starts to overheat." Rika didn't say anything, but just raised one of her eyebrows, to which Randal sighed and nodded his head before he went back into the generator compartment.

"You know, I've got to separate you two; you're both starting to act alike." Rika and Geefive looked at each other, and together they both shrugged, in their own ways of course.

"Well have fun figuring that one out," she said as she turned and headed towards the turbolift. Randal pulled his head out from up under the framework long enough to watch her walk away, and then called out to her.

"You did pretty good out there, Sweetheart."

"You did pretty good yourself," she said as she continued to walk, but turned her head around. "I'm still not sure about that Ladykiller thing, though." Randal let out a laugh at his own expense and then fought to wedge his torso back into the generator housing.

Rika at first thought about going to her quarters to clean up, but instead she headed up to Orena's. The corridor on that level was completely deserted, but she found the door to Orena's quarters open. Hesitantly, she stepped inside, and found Orena standing staring out of the window while holding the Loag Dagger in her hands in front of her. When Rika stepped in, Orena lightly moved her head and only nodded to her old friend before looking down at the dagger in her hands.

"It's strange," was all Orena said in a reflective manner as she turned the dagger slowly over in her hands, looking at the simple nature of the ancient ceremonial weapon. Rika cocked a brow and lightly shook her head.

"What is?" Orena sighed and lifted her head to look out the window with a motion that appeared that it took a great effort to do so.

"That something so trivial would come at the cost of so many lives." Orena again lowered her head and shook it as she looked at the dagger with a frown of disgust. "I lost so many men today; men who were trusting their lives to me, trusting in me to bring them back safely, all for this." With a not so gentle touch, she put the dagger down on a desktop and crossed her arms as she again turned to the window and looked out at the night sky.

"No, not for this," Rika found herself saying as she picked up the dagger and looked it over before setting it back down. Orena turned from the window and regarded her old friend with a puzzled look. Rika met her gaze and explained her thoughts. "This dagger was only a means to an end. An end we all agreed on, both you and me, and all the men and women in this outfit, when we joined. This trivial thing gave us the opportunity to fight the Empire, and we did."

"Yes, it provided an opportunity to fight the Empire, and credits to finance future battles, but it also cost twenty three lives; five pilots, seventeen soldiers and Commander Oannes," Orena said as she walked across the room and slumped onto the edge of her bed. Rika took in a deep breath and sat on the bed beside her childhood friend.

"Every life the Empire takes is tragic, but those twenty three willingly gave their lives fighting so that the Empire wouldn't take the life of an innocent. Everyone here knows, as well as you, that the fight against the Empire isn't going to be an easy one. But it's like you told me before, for every life the Empire takes, a dozen more will take its place in a stand against tyranny. What we did today, and what those twenty three died for, will be heard from one side of the galaxy to the other; and the message we sent was that the oppression of the Sith will not go unanswered. Freedom still has a voice in this galaxy, and I'll continue to fight and put my life on the line for it to stay alive."

Orena looked up and into the eyes of Rika, and lightly smiled. Rika looked back, and could see the tears that were welling up in the corner of Orena's eyes. With a solid nod, Orena stood up from the bed and cleared her throat as she walked to the desktop and picked up the dagger.

"If the Jedi hadn't taken you to be trained, you'd have made a great senator," Orena said with a smile.

"I don't know, I never cared for politics," Rika said back with a smile. As the two exited the room, Orena led the way to the communications station to send the message to Count Nalju and to arrange the transaction for the dagger. After that, Orena had plans to put those hard earned credits to use; a use that the Empire would soon never forget.

* * *

A/N: And there's the conclusion to the third entry in my series! Sorry for the tardiness in getting this relatively short epilogue posted, but I've been more or less stalling for time to formulate ideas for the next installment. To be honest, I've been a bit lazy as of late and a little distracted with a side project, but rest assured that I'll keep writing this series! The next installment will likely either show up at the end of next month (September) or early October, so keep a look out! (Or add me to an Author Alert I guess... I'm not to sure how all that works.)

Oh, I guess it's not really a spoiler or anything, but if you're interested in knowing what the next chapter in my series is going to be about, check out my profile. I'll put up a brief description there on what it'll be about. Stay tuned! And if you got this far, leave a review to let me know what you think!


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